


Afternoons and Coffeespoons

by zaphodsgirl



Series: Afternoons and Coffeespoons [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Dean/Cas Tropefest 2017, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, John Winchester Has an Etsy Shop, Love Triangles, M/M, Mutual Pining, Tropefest Author Shoutouts, True Mates, You Butter Believe It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-19 15:56:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 52,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11901108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zaphodsgirl/pseuds/zaphodsgirl
Summary: Dean’s crushing hard on the dreamy Beta guy at the local coffee shop, but he overhears something one day that drives him off. Misunderstandings and mistaken identities abound as each of them come to terms with some things, but will they finally end up together even after Dean scents his true mate?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First, thanks go to the amazing Tropefest mods for creating and running this challenge, and for the community in the Tropefest chat. They are my family and I love them beyond measure.  
> Special thanks to Lauren for being an amazing beta as always, never afraid to point out things that make me uncomfortable to hear but are absolutely necessary.  
> Art for this challenge was done by the incomparable [horrorfemme](http://horrorfemme1138.tumblr.com/), who honored me so much by choosing to illustrate for my story, and then straight up _killing it_ even while she was busy doing so many other, much more important, things. I am awed and humbled by what she did.  
>  You can see the art just for this story here:  
> [Art Masterpost](http://horrorfemme1138.tumblr.com/post/165100873461/i-finally-get-to-share-the-art-that-i-made-as-part)  
>  
> 
> Note about the non/con tags:  
> Characters have discussions regarding  
> \-- an attempted rape  
> \-- an event where an underage Omega is put in a position to be forcibly mated  
> Neither of these actually occur and aren't enough for the archive warning, but characters talk about the situations and were affected by them.

Dean pulls into the employee parking lot and tries not to grin like a fool when he sees the stupid, sky blue, beat up Ford Granada parked at the far end. He wonders how long it's been there, if it means that his crush is opening or closing over at the coffee shop across the street. He parks in the empty spot closest to it, and tests the hood as he walks by. Still warm. Which means he hasn't been here long and is probably closing, so if Dean eats there during his break he will definitely see him. Maybe even talk to him about something besides his order for a change.

Dean moved out here to California back in May for several different reasons: he needed to get away from Kansas, his dad had a friend who would give him a job, and his brother was here. Even so, he'd come out here feeling dejected, with few things to smile about. All of that changed the first time he'd popped into the cafe across from Singer's Sporting Goods and been struck almost speechless by the dark-haired, blue-eyed dreamboat wiping down tables. He hadn't realized he was next at the counter until the barista loudly got his attention, so intent had he been on the figure bending over tables as he wiped them down.

That was three months ago and he hasn't made any progress since, except he knows the object of his affection must have a weird ass name judging by the tag that is always clipped to his apron, since it's different every single time he sees him. He's not sure if the guy is being hazed by his co-workers, or just has a hilarious sense of humor, but he's been Cassie, Steve, Scruffy, Jimmy Jams, and Clarence as far as Dean can tell, but Dean thinks of him as Blue Eyes, or Blue for short. Blue is often working at the register, and Dean always spend the time he waits in line staring surreptitiously at him through his lashes while he busies himself on his phone, sometimes playing Candy Crush, sometimes texting Charlie with random observations.

_D: He never full out smiles. Like, with teeth, you know? Just a little, closed-mouth, barely perceptible grin if anything._

_Queen C: What if he doesn't have a sense of humor?_

_D: Well, how much humor can there be in taking coffee orders from people? He must have, though, judging from his nametag game._

_Queen C: Hey, you know what you should do? TELL HIM A JOKE._

_D: Ha ha_

_Queen C: You're hopeless. If you want to see his pearly whites someday you'll have to actually TALK to him, loser._

So what if he needs some time to get comfortable and work up to actual conversation? At least now he can smile and give his order properly when Blue is at the register, instead of listening to his tongue helplessly tripping over itself as he speaks. It took a solid week for him to stop stuttering. You just can't rush progress.

Dean knows his eyes are an arresting shade of blue, and he knows he has a blue car which is equally arresting but for the opposite reason, because it's hideous. He learned this strictly by accident, just sitting in the Impala on his phone one day at the end of his shift when Blue pulled into the parking lot. He knows he doesn't own a comb, that he never laughs and doesn't really smile all that much.

There is so much more he wants to know, but there are too many past experiences weighing down his tongue. It isn't that he's afraid, really, just that he'd come here to California for anonymity, and it's still too new and precious and he hesitates to risk it. What if Blue finds him attractive, too, and agrees to go on a date with him? Certainly they'll get around to the designation discussion, and what will his reaction be? He's pretty sure Blue is a Beta, but even Betas find the idea of a male Omega a novelty. He'll tell his co-workers, and they'll tell others, and eventually it will be just like the atmosphere he's run away from. Thinking about that makes all the words he wants to say die on his lips every time Blue looks at him and asks him for his order.

Maybe he should just take the leap. It's been three months now of him going to the cafe for every break to get a fix of his crush, eating his food at the table in the corner and daydreaming about getting Blue to smile, a real smile, maybe even laugh and tell Dean his real name. He should make a move. California is a far better environment than Kansas ever was, and deep down he doesn't believe Blue would gossip about him. He doesn't know why, he just has a feeling. Ever since the first time they made eye contact he's felt...connected to him, somehow. Like Michael Corleone when he spots Appolonia in The Godfather for the first time. _Colpo de fulmine._ The thunderbolt.

He wondered at first if maybe he'd met his true mate, like in one of those sappy Omega rom-coms that he refuses to admit to Sam he's completely addicted to, but a little research was enough to dispel that notion. True mate theory is all scent-based, a glandular pull towards another person who has an extremely high percentage of chemical compatibility with you, and it only occurs between Alphas and Omegas. He files this little disappointment away in the place where he keeps all his unrealistic hopes and dreams (touring with Led Zeppelin, winning the lottery, going back in time to rescue his mom from a house fire) and reminds himself that it's childish to believe in true mates anyway.

Glancing at his watch, he realizes he still has twenty minutes left until the start of his shift. Enough time to run across the street and get a coffee, and if he happens to get an early glimpse of his crush to tide him over until break, well, that's just a bonus. Maybe there won't be a crowd of people in there this early in the day. Maybe today is the day for him to act.  Maybe Blue isn't his true mate -- but the pull he feels towards him is unmistakeable, and that's got to mean something. If he waits too long to act on it he might miss his chance, and if he moved to California for anything it was to have a chance at something better.

Grinning to himself, he heads over to _Butter Than the Rest_ , vowing that today he will make conversation, he will flirt, and he will not leave without an actual name and maybe even a phone number. Maybe finally ask the only question besides Blue's real name that's been nagging at him since he moved here: why on earth would anyone put actual _butter_ in their coffee, anyway?

∞

In the cafe currently occupying Dean's thoughts, Castiel, a.k.a. the man he thinks of as Blue, is cleaning tables neglected during the lunch rush. He just gotten to work but is already checking the clock and wishing that time would speed up. It's a Thursday, and he knows that the gorgeous man with the green eyes and the charming smile comes in every Thursday without fail, sometime during the dinner hours.

They don’t have as much of a crowd in the evenings as they do at lunch, but there are usually still enough customers that Castiel can't get out from behind the counter for any length of time. He longs to wander over to the table where the man usually sits and strike up a conversation with him, but he knows that realistically it will probably never happen for two reasons: they're usually too busy, and Castiel can't imagine himself ever having the courage to flirt with the object of his desire. He's always been awkward around other people but he can't seem to help it, and he's never actually minded not being able to connect with people until the day he said "Can I take your order?" and looked up at the most breathtaking man he'd ever seen. Now he's obsessed with how much fundamental knowledge he lacks in that department.

His brother Gabriel is nearly a decade older than he is and had already moved out of their house when Castiel hit puberty, and they have no other siblings. He'd never been comfortable in school as a child, preferring his books and his solitude to childish toys and games. He'd always been far too serious to interest the other kids -- when his parents sent him to Alpha boarding school he never managed to click with anyone, not even a roommate. Other students kept their distance, and in those moments when Castiel felt lonely and couldn't figure out how to bridge the gap, he retreated into a book.

Desperate to get back to familiar surroundings, he ignored his father’s direction to apply to Ivy league prospects and went solely for West Coast universities instead. Thrilled with his acceptance to Stanford, he nevertheless moved back into his parents’ house so he could avoid the intricacies of campus life; now he regretted it, not just because of the things he'd missed out on, but because he knows now that it was just another way his parents sought to control him.

Everything in his life fell apart in the spring, and now he's cut off from his parents, unable to afford to return to Stanford, and living off his brother's charity. In the beginning it had been difficult for him to even get out of bed, but Gabriel refused to let him wallow.

They hadn't had any kind of relationship in the last decade, so Castiel is still stunned to find himself in his brother's care, being given a job and a place to live, getting encouragement to transfer to UC Berkeley. He helped Castiel secure his student loan, lent him an old junker that he'd never had the heart to part with ("she's the first thing I ever bought for myself, Cassie, we go way back") and given him a job here in the cafe so he would have something to do, have a reason to get up everyday.

It also puts him in a position to interact with strangers on a daily basis; he knows that Gabriel is trying to get him to open up, to interact with people, to overcome his awkwardness. In short, teach him lessons he feels their parents overlooked. Gabe's attempts to force Castiel out of his shell and make him interact with the world are well meant, if annoying, and unlike the rest of their family Gabe doesn't expect him to act a specific way based on his designation, which is a relief.  

Unfortunately, Gabe has pretty impressive observational skills, and he hasn't missed the way that Castiel's eyes follow a certain patron every time they leave the cafe. He teases Castiel mercilessly about the blush that creeps up his neck every time the stranger shows up, despite his cool greeting and disaffected manner.

In characteristic Gabriel fashion he's dubbed the man "Handsome Ass", and every time he sees him come in he pokes Castiel in the ribs to prompt him to say something. Castiel _does_ say something, the same thing, on every occasion: "What can I get for you?" Which is admittedly not enticing or interesting or indicative in any way of the butterflies chasing themselves around in his stomach every time the man smiles at him as he swipes his debit card, and Castiel struggles to control his breathing and not start counting freckles.

He sighs as he finishes his current task and goes back behind the counter, where Gabriel is consolidating items in the pastry case, smiling over his shoulder as Castiel rinses off the rag he's been using and wrings it out before hanging it over the faucet.

"It’s Thursday, and you know what that means!” Gabe sing-songs as he moves all the remaining scones onto a single tray on the top shelf, neat rows of blueberry and cinnamon and orange pastries lined up on white ceramic.  “It’s definitely a work day for Handsome Ass, and we'll be seeing him later!"

"Gabriel, please don't start,” Castiel sighs, leaning on the sink with his face in his hands.

"Listen, one of you has got to make a move at some point or there will never be anything happening but heart eyes and unresolved sexual tension. Maybe I should take it upon myself to say something to him on your behalf?"

Castiel panics, horrified at how he imagines that conversation would go.

_"Hey green eyes! I think my brother wants to mount you!"_

He shudders just thinking about it. He'll die of embarrassment and probably never see the stranger again, since he's sure to flee for parts unknown after being exposed to Gabriel. Castiel and his brother are polar opposites, Gabe being openly flirtatious and not at all shy about topics that Castiel would much rather keep private. He tries desperately to throw Gabe off the scent with a vehement denial.

"Gabriel, don't you _dare_ say anything to him! I am absolutely _not_ interested in the stupid sporting goods guy!"

Gabe puts up his hands in a defensive gesture to indicate that he'll back off. Neither of them notices the person who walks into the cafe and quietly walks back out again, his shoulders slumped and his head down.

"Whoa, little brother! I won't do anything, okay? I just wish _you'd_ do something about it. It's obvious that you're interested in the guy. I know I've only been back in your life these last three months, but I've never seen you look at anyone else that comes in here the way you look at him."

Castiel starts pacing between the register and the pastry case, hands twisting in his apron.

"I don't know what it is about him, but...I feel like there's something there, you know? I can't put my finger on it."

"Well, he's gorgeous."

"So? There are many visually appealing people that come in here, but I'm not interested in any of _them_."

"Well, this _is_ California, pretty much everybody is visually appealing."

" _Gabriel._ "

"Sorry, proceed."

"The first time I looked at him, I felt something...profound. Maybe not a connection exactly, but the strong desire for one. I've never really felt compelled like that before. It takes everything I have to act normal when he's in here, because I just don't know what to do with this feeling."

"Huh. Maybe he's your true mate, Cassie, did you ever think of that?"

He hates that nickname, always has, and not only has his brother refused to stop using it, he's been playing a game of "give Cassie a new nickname" with all the other staff in an attempt to get Castiel to lighten up. Currently his nametag reads "Feathers" and he doesn't even know where that one came from. He's always liked the idea of nicknames and the comfortable familiarity it shows between people, so he secretly doesn’t mind this game -- but hearing his brother call him "Cassie" will always make him cringe.

"Gabriel, you know I don't believe in mystical, scented destiny," he says, finally leaning against the counter and idly kicking his heel against the base of it. "I think he’s a Beta, first of all. I mean, he looks like an Alpha, but he doesn't give off any kind of scent -- and you need that to recognize your true mate."

"Oh, so you've _tried_ scenting him, then?" Gabriel teases as he elbows Castiel in the ribs. "You seem to be well-informed about this thing you don't believe in."

“Gabe.”

“Not to mention that _you’re_ an Alpha and you wear scent blockers so…”

" _Gabe_."

"Never mind, then," his brother says, with a dismissive wave of his hand. "The point is, you like him. Maybe he likes you, too, did you ever think of that?" Castiel chews his bottom lip as he ponders this. "I know the way you were raised didn’t do much to encourage you to do what you wanted, but out here in the real world you need to take _chances_ , Castiel -- otherwise you've just exchanged one prison for another."

Gabe claps him on the shoulder as he heads into the kitchen, the connecting door swinging back and forth in his wake before it settles into stillness, and by then Castiel has promised himself that if the stranger comes in today, he's going to talk to him. He'll ask him his _name_ , at the very least, so he can stop thinking of him as Handsome Ass.

∞

Dean slinks back across the street, trying to quell the thoughts raging in his head as he walks towards the back, raising a hand to wave at Kevin as he passes the shoe department. He throws his keys into the desk in Bobby's office, glancing at the schedule quickly to see who else he's working with today and breathing a sigh of relief when he confirms that Sam isn't working tonight. He reads Dean entirely too well, and he doesn’t want to spend the night fending off Sam’s repeated attempts to figure out why he’s moping. He heads back out to the floor and uses the register to clock in.

"It's about time you got here, ya idjit," Bobby says as he comes out of an aisle holding a sleeping bag, heading behind the counter where Dean is and grabbing a hold ticket from one of the drawers. He spends a few minutes diligently filling it out, tying it onto a strap before he speaks again without even turning in Dean's direction. "Wanna tell me why it took you half an hour to walk from the front to the back like you were going to the guillotine?"

Dean sighs and rubs his hand vigorously through his hair, trying to get the blood flowing, stimulate his thought process. He'd forgotten that Bobby was even more intuitive than Sam, but at least Bobby won't give him puppy dog eyes full of pitiful understanding and empathy.

"It's just been brought to my attention that I've completely misread something, that's all. I'm trying to come to terms with the disappointment, I guess."

"Disappointment, huh?" Bobby retorts, leaning against a display case full of hunting knives in various shapes and sizes and crossing his arms. "Disappointed is how you look when the diner doesn't have any pie left. The way you look right now I'd think somebody took their key to the side of the Impala."

He'd much rather talk to Charlie but his break is hours away, and if he doesn't give Bobby an explanation he'll probably ask Sam about it the next time he's in.

"I've been going to that cafe across the street for a while now on my breaks because of someone who works over there. I thought we had a connection, I guess. Mutual interest. Seems to not be so mutual after all."

"Somebody mouth off to you?" Bobby asks gruffly, and Dean is actually glad that he can say no because he's not entirely sure what would happen if anyone damaged Bobby's calm, since he has a protective streak a mile wide and nearly as long as his dad’s.

"No. I just overheard something I probably wasn't meant to, but it was enough to let me know that I'd misread the entire situation. It seems that what I thought was shy interest was just forced politeness to cover discomfort. Poor guy probably got freaked out every time I came in and drooled all over him, but he was always perfectly nice and never let on."

Because that's what you have to do when you work with the public -- you have to be courteous to customers and can’t treat them rudely even if they’re inappropriately undressing you with their eyes. It still happens to him sometimes, though far less than back home in Kansas where practically everyone knew he was an Omega. He’s been wearing blockers for years, but those don’t make people forget when they already know what you are.

"I feel kind of shitty about it, because now I think I made him feel the way I always used to feel in school when people I was not at _all_ interested in wouldn't take the hint and leave me alone."

"Son," Bobby sighs, pushing his cap back to scratch his forehead before he pulls it firmly back into place, "I'll be damned if you could ever treat anybody the way _they_ treated you."

He shudders to think about what life was like after he presented, the enormous amount of of unwanted attention, the gossip that spread through the halls. That stigma followed him all through college, too, with people treating him like a freak, like a whore, like he was an object. Going on dates only to realize they just wanted to see what it was like to bang an Omega man.

Then something happened that made him realize the knowledge of his designation would affect his entire life unless he started over somewhere else. Now he's grateful for the anonymity life in a different town affords him; nobody here besides Bobby and his brother know his designation except the pharmacist who fills his suppressant prescription, and he passes for a Beta pretty effectively.

Thankfully, Rufus comes in before Bobby can say anything else, and it doesn't take long for the two of them to get into a deep discussion with over fishing flies, leaving Dean alone at the counter.

When Dean heads out for his break he starts towards the cafe on autopilot, but stops short before he reaches the door. He gazes at the storefront for a minute, pondering before he shakes his head, turning to walk in the opposite direction. He needs to find another place to take his dinner breaks, because he can't go back to the cafe again. He can't stomach the thought of Blue smiling at him out of politeness when he's really thinking about how much he can't stand Dean.

He settles for a microwave burrito from the convenience store at the far end of the shopping center, which only serves to depress him more as he sits in his car, washing it down with a soda and trying to swallow his bitterness with it.

He fires off a text to Charlie while he waits for his break to be over.

_D: overheard cafe guy telling his buddy he has zero interest in me today_

_Queen C: shit, Dean, that sucks. r u sure it was about u?_

_D: well, he specifically said the stupid sporting goods guy so I'm pretty sure_

_Queen C: shit. What a dick!_

Charlie’s been like this ever since their freshman year of college, automatically taking his side and assuming the other person is in the wrong. Dean still can't help but feel the fault lies with him, so he doesn't respond before he heads back to finish his shift.

∞

By the time 7:00 rolls around, Castiel has to accept, with disappointment, that Handsome Ass isn't coming. He probably just didn't work today; it _is_ a retail store after all, and his schedule likely changes all the time. Just because he's been in for the last ten Thursdays without fail doesn't mean he can't have one off for a change. Not that Castiel's been counting.

He’ll be in another day, certainly, Castiel tries to focus on that. It will just give him more time to work on how to strike up a conversation, finally, for the brief moment that he's at the register. Make a joke about how he realized he'd always been there on Thursdays after he didn't show up, or something. How do people even flirt? Maybe he should ask Gabriel.

No. He should decidedly not ask Gabriel, who's currently giving Castiel side-eye like he wants to ask him something but is just waiting for the last of the customers to leave.

At 8:00 Gabe flips the sign to "Closed" before coming into the back where Castiel is loading the dishwasher. He leans back against the counter, crossing his arms and smirking.

"You seem a little put-out there, Cassie. What's got you in the dumps, baby bro? Are you missing someone?" Gabriel knows he hit a nerve earlier today, simply because of how violent the protest to the contrary was.

Castiel shuts the door firmly and sighs. He's done a terrible job of hiding not only his interest, but his disappointment. He wishes he were better at disguising his feelings but he seems to wear everything on his sleeve, his shy awkwardness evident to everyone, making him an easy target.

" _Fine_. I'm a little upset that he didn't come in tonight. Is that what you wanted to hear?” He keeps his back to Gabriel. “After we talked earlier I was determined to actually say something to him for a change, too."

"Well, if you're not here the next time he comes in I could always..."

"Gabe, I don't want you talking to him about me, or asking him probing questions about his designation, or suggesting that I want to get him naked..."

"Don't you, though?"

" _Gabe_."

"Okay, okay," his brother says, hands up in a placating gesture as he pushes himself off the counter with his hip. "I won't do anything as long as you _promise_ you will do more than ask him for his order next time, because Cassie, you're never gonna get anywhere with the guy if you don't at least talk to him."

"I will! I just...I was working up to it."

"I have molasses in the pantry that moves faster than you, Cassie. I have _churned butter_ in less time than it's taken you to even admit you're interested in this dude."

"I know, I know!" Castiel throws up his hands in exasperation. "I know I don't know how to act around people, that I'm awkward and strange and, and…” he takes a deep breath, turning to face his brother as he slumps against the dishwasher in defeat. “I just don't know how to...not be."

Gabriel sighs and comes over to slip an arm around his shoulders, squeezing him a bit in a side-hug.

"You can only be yourself, Cassie. I just like to tease you about it -- not because there's anything wrong with you, but because _you_ think there is. I wish you'd stop thinking you're not good enough, you know? I guess I think poking fun at it will make you less sensitive about it."

"But Gabe, you know what our parents..."

" _No_. I mean, I know what our parents always told you about how you should behave, how you should act. I also know they're completely wrong, okay? And if they'll only be made happy by you acting a specific way, then they are not interested in the person you actually are, which is _great_. So I don't care what they think, and neither should you. Not anymore."

Castiel nods slightly, his hands twisting the hem of his apron again.

"I'm trying, Gabe. I am. Just, please, could you not embarrass me with the guy? I want to be comfortable when I finally talk to him, not mortified and stuttering an apology for your behavior."

Gabe chuckles before leaning in to plant a kiss on Castiel's temple.

"I can't promise to stop good-naturedly teasing you. But I promise not to ask Handsome Ass if he likes Alpha meat, okay?"

∞

The first week that Handsome Ass doesn't come back to the cafe, Castiel tells himself he's probably on vacation. People take week-long vacations, of course, and he certainly wouldn't have told the strange guy who stared at him too long in the cafe that he'd be away for a while.

After another week passes and he doesn't see him he starts to worry a little bit. Even Gabriel wonders why he's suddenly stopped coming, and suggests that maybe he got fired from his job, but Castiel doesn't believe it. He's not sure why, but he didn't seem like the type of guy that would get fired.

"How would you know, Cassie? Maybe he's your typical Alpha knot-head and lost his temper or some shit. You just don't know. Although if he _is_ an Alpha...Cassie, you kinky bastard!" he squeals, wiggling his eyebrows and snapping his towel at Castiel's ass as he leans into the pastry case.

"Gabe!"

"What, nobody's even in here. Wait, are they?" he says absent-mindedly, peering around the case to make sure no one's actually at the register. "Nope, still empty. I should probably get one of those door chime thingeys though, so I actually hear people come in."

"Like the one I told you to install when I started working here so I wouldn't have to run in and out of the kitchen every five minutes in the mornings to make sure no one's waiting? That kind of chime?"

"Yeah, maybe?" Gabriel shrugs, and snaps his towel again. "Stop trying to distract me from the topic at hand! We're discussing the absence of Handsome Ass!"

"Gabriel, I'm positive he has an actual _name_ ," Castiel rebukes, but he trails off, defeated, as he remembers he never actually learned it.

"Why don't you just go over to Singer's after close tonight and scope the place out, see if he's still working there?"

Castiel chews his lip thoughtfully. It's not actually a bad idea. He could just go over and pretend he's looking for something and walk around. Then, if he sees his crush, maybe he can actually talk to him for a change.

"Maybe he'll even be wearing an actual name tag on his work shirt and you can get it without even having to ask!" Gabe says teasingly, poking Castiel in the ribs.

"Gabe, what if...what if he stopped coming because I never actually got up the nerve to talk to him? Or worse, what if he stopped coming because he met someone who actually paid attention to him? What if..." but Gabe grabs him firmly by the shoulders and looks him in the eye.

"Going over all the 'what if' scenarios in your head is not going to get you anywhere. Go over after work, see if he's around, report back to me when you get home. Okay?" he asks, punctuating it with a little shake.

Castiel nods his head, knowing how right his brother is, but he can't help that he's always had this problem of second-guessing himself, entirely too self-aware of his own shortcomings. Maybe he'll get there eventually, but right now he's got twenty years of being conditioned by their parents versus three months of Gabriel trying to break him out of it. It's just not going to happen that quickly, although he really appreciates how hard his brother is trying.

He doesn't think Gabe truly understands just how bad things were at home, though, being so much older and a beta to boot. Nothing was ever expected of him, and Castiel was only ten years old when he left for college and never really came back except for the obligatory holidays. He supposes Gabe had his own demons to work through regarding their parents, but he's had twelve years of freedom from them to do it.

He watches his brother humming to himself as he straightens out the pastry case, and decides to take a leap.

"Was there one thing in particular that made living with them too much for you? Or was it more a succession of small things over time?" He's always wanted to ask Gabriel exactly why he distanced himself from their parents but didn’t know how, thought it would be rude, somehow. However, in the few months since coming to him for refuge, he's learned that there’s actually nothing his brother finds too offensive to talk about it.

He shudders thinking about the night Gabe decided to teach him all about Japanese tentacle porn. Which would be fine, actually, if he wasn't watching it _with his brother_.

Gabriel stops what he's doing, straightening up to look at him as he shuts the back of the pastry case, turning around fully to lean against it as he thinks over the question, brows furrowed.

"I didn't really know when I left that I'd never really come back, actually." He pushes himself off the case and walks over to the register side of the counter, checking to see if anyone has come in. "It wasn't until I got away from them, out on my own, that I realized how bad things were with them. It wasn't that they were overtly cruel or anything, just that once it was obvious I was a beta I suddenly became insignificant. I guess they figured I wasn't worth the emotional investment, you know?" He crosses his arms, looking pensive. "I thought that's how it was for everyone. The way our home life was, parents always distant. It wasn't until I made friends and spent time around other people's families that I realized how _abnormal_ it was. That I had to make a home for myself if I ever wanted to feel like I belonged."  

Castiel takes a good look around the cafe, with its comfortable earth tones and cheerful accents, and hopes that someday he'll be able to say the same for himself, that he's carved a tiny niche of happiness into the world where he's beholden to no one but himself.

"I'm sorry, you know," he hears Gabe say softly, and he turns back to him with a quizzical look on his face. "For not realizing how bad it must be for you there alone, with all their Alpha expectations thrust upon you."

"Gabe, I..."

"I know you're going to say it wasn't my fault, but I'm still sorry. I wish I'd looked more closely whenever I'd come home. I think I was too wrapped up in my own resentment, you know? Watching how they'd fawn over you and your accomplishments at Christmas dinner, and hating myself because I was jealous of this 15 year old kid. Hating them because I was a college graduate trying to get something started all on my own, and they could barely give me anything but tacit acknowledgement. I didn't think about the pressure it was putting on you, or that you were being forced into uncomfortable situations like..." but he doesn't continue, doesn't need to say out loud what they're both thinking about it now, so he looks down at his shoes while he scuffs at a tile with foot. "I didn't pay enough attention to all the tiny ways they would correct you, pass judgement on you. Looking back now, it seems so obvious to me."

"I should have come to you for help sooner. I wish I had, instead of showing up at your door unannounced and hysterical the way I did."

Gabe looks up now, meeting his eyes with the most somber face he's ever worn.

"You can _always_ come to me. I need you to know that. Maybe I slacked off the last dozen years or so but...I'm your foundation now, okay?"

Castiel can't help but smile at that, and it releases something in Gabe, too, who returns it with a lopsided grin of his own. 

∞

Despite knowing that it's a good idea, Castiel is dreading going into the store across the way when they finally leave the cafe at 8:30. He's got half an hour before Singer's Sporting Goods closes for the night, thirty minutes to go in and pretend to browse while seeking out the object of his affection. He's not sure which outcome he hopes for: that he won't find him at all, meaning Castiel did nothing wrong but he'll probably never see him again; or that he's there and has a different reason for never coming back to the cafe. By the time he screws up enough courage to actually enter the store, there's only twenty minutes left until they close.

He's never actually been in here before but he doesn't want to look like he's wandering around with no purpose, so he decides to stride towards the back where he can see sneakers on display. Everyone needs shoes. He can act like that's the reason he's here, and since they're straight towards the back he can peer into the areas on either side of the main aisle as he heads in that direction. There were two young women at the registers when he walked in, both wearing blue polo shirts embroidered with _Singer's_ that all the employees wear.  

He passes baseball on the left and golf on the right but he doesn't see any other associates, though he keeps an eye out for the telltale blue shirts. Beyond golf he can see biking equipment, and there is a man over there in an employee polo but he's lanky and looks nothing like who Castiel is searching for. He's nearly into footwear when he looks into the camping and fishing section on the left and almost comes to a dead stop when he sees what he’s looking for.

His back is to Castiel, but it’s certainly him. Castiel has spent enough time staring longingly at the back of him whenever he leaves that he can recognize that ass in a heartbeat. Gabriel didn't choose the nickname "Handsome Ass" at random.

Target acquired, he continues into shoes and pauses before a display wall of sneakers where he can still see into camping aisle. He stands there for a minute, waving off the young boy that comes over to offer him some help with the lame excuse that he's just browsing. Technically he _is_ browsing, it's just not sneakers that he's looking for. He debates what to do now, how he should approach, when the man turns around to walk in his direction and catches Castiel staring.

Busted.

The guy shakes adopts a stern expression, stalking up to Castiel until he can read the nametag on his shirt: Dean. The man he's been swooning over for three months is named Dean.

Castiel breaks out in an uneasy smile and raises his hand to wave like a complete fool before he stops himself and puts it down at his side. Something in Dean's expression does not say _boy, am I happy to see you!_ so he swallows hard and waits, wondering what he'll say.

"Is there something I can help you with, sir?" says Dean, and Castiel is taken aback by the cold tone of his voice. "I was under the impression that you were absolutely _not interested_ in anything the _stupid sporting goods guy_ had to offer." They stare at one another -- Castiel frozen with shocked horror, Dean with eyes full of cold fury before he makes a sharp left and heads into a door that Castiel hadn't noticed in the back wall, right next to the display where he's standing.

He realizes with horrible clarity exactly what happened. Dean came into the cafe while he and Gabe were arguing and neither of them heard him -- but he obviously heard them perfectly, if only that one part. He heard, and that's why he hasn't been back since -- but Castiel didn't mean it, he just wanted Gabriel shut up and stop teasing him about it.

Without thinking he moves towards the door Dean disappeared into.

"Hey!" the kid from the shoe department calls to him, and as he looks in that direction the boy comes to a screeching halt in front of him. "You can't go back there! It's for staff only."

Castiel stares dumbly at the door he's resting his hand on, realizing that it indeed says just that. He drops his hand to his side, defeated.

"But I have to explain! He thinks that...I mean he heard..." but he doesn't want to explain the situation to some young kid wearing a bright blue polo shirt and a silver name badge reading _Kevin_ with a gold star stuck to it. "I'm sorry," he says instead, and turns to make his way back to the front of the store, just as a voice over the intercom announces that they are closing in five minutes. He knows that voice, and it sounds much warmer over the loudspeakers than it did to Castiel a minute ago.

He walks out the front door, making a sharp right to head up the alley into the lot where all the shopping center employees park, his steps leaden and his heart just as heavy.

He knows it's stupid, but he feels like he's lost his grip on something really amazing. He can't put his finger on it, but there was just something about Dean that made Castiel feel alive inside every time he looked at him. He wanted explore that feeling, eventually, but it intimidated him so much that he never acted on it.  Instead he denied it so vehemently that now his chance is ruined, and he has no one to blame but himself.

He shuts himself into his car, fumbling the key into the ignition with a shaking hand, fighting the urge to cry. It's just more evidence of his parents' influence that he immediately thinks of what a poor Alpha that makes him.

He doesn't sit around in the parking lot for long, knowing that soon enough all the employees will finish up and head for their own vehicles, and he can't stomach the thought of Dean seeing him there in his car, crying, pathetic and alone. He expects Gabriel to be waiting for him when he gets home and isn't disappointed, but one look at Castiel's face wipes the smile from his own.

"Sit down," he says, gesturing at one of the high chairs along the kitchen island as he gets the milk out of the fridge, grabbing a saucepot from the hanging rack and turning back to the stove.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm making hot cocoa. Obviously."

"But...but it’s _August_. Why?"

Gabriel shoots an incredulous look over his shoulder.

"Don't ask stupid questions, Castiel. No one ever needs to _explain_ why cocoa is necessary." He turns back to the task at hand and doesn't look at Castiel again until he's finished, placing two mugs of frothy goodness on the counter before them, topped with mini marshmallows and a sprinkle of cinnamon. He takes the chair opposite and places both hands around his own mug.

"He doesn't work there anymore, does he?" Gabriel guesses, raising up his mug and blowing softly on the contents, keeping his eyes down. Castiel isn't normally prone to lie, and it hadn't even occurred to him to do so the entire drive home. Given the circumstances it seems like an easy out, a way to avoid the lecture Gabriel is sure to give him about standing up for himself: to force Dean to listen to an explanation, to make his real feelings known, to take a chance.

Gabriel hadn't seen the look on Dean's face, the disappointed disgust he felt for Castiel.

"No, he doesn't. I, uh, I asked this kid in the shoe department. He quit a couple weeks ago, no idea where he went." It was a safe bet that Gabe would never set foot in a sporting goods store in a million years, so he'd never catch on to the lie.

"Oh, Cassie. I'm sorry. I wish I'd pushed you harder to approach him!" but Castiel is vigorously shaking his head.

"No, no...I can't be something I'm _not_ Gabe, you were right about that. So I'll just have to wait for someone who can appreciate me as I am, slow approach and all." He gets up from the counter, taking his mug and cradling it to his chest with both hands. "I'm gonna go drink this in my room. Thanks. I'll see you tomorrow."

He can feel Gabe shaking his head as he watches him walk away, can practically hear him wishing he knew how to help, but Gabe’s done more than enough for Castiel.

A few months ago he'd come home from work to find Castiel huddled in the doorway of his tiny bungalow, visibly shaken and reeking of despair and something else. They'd barely spoken to one another for years, interacting only as necessary during holidays. That didn't stop Gabriel from pulling his brother into his arms and holding him tightly, fumbling his key into the door and helping him into the house where he sat him on the couch before wrapping him in a blanket. Castiel had just sat there, numb with shock, until Gabe had come back into the room and pressed a mug full of warm liquid into his hands.

He'd made cocoa then, too, and as he sat down on the other side of the couch he froze for a second, and Castiel knew he’d finally placed what the other scent on his skin was.

Omega. An omega in heat, no less, and if he had an inkling of what had happened he didn’t let on, didn’t press. Just waited.

It took hours for Castiel to tell him everything, and when he’d run out of words Gabe had taken him upstairs and put him in the shower. Castiel had come out to a made up the guest bed and soft pajama pants to sleep in, with a worn tee that said _Bakers do it Butter_. He didn’t think he’d be able to sleep, but he barely remembers getting under the covers.

The next day when Castiel woke up, disoriented and full of despair, he opened his eyes to find a set of spare keys on the nightstand, along with some new clothes and a note: _This is your home now._

∞

_D: you'll never believe who came in here just before close_

_Queen C: I'm breathless with antici...._

_D:..._

_Queen C: ..._

_D: omg are you ever gonna get tired of this joke?_

_Queen C: ..._

_D: I'll wait._

_Queen C: ...pation_

_D: Can I continue now?_

_Queen C: proceed_

_D: Cafe guy was in here. He was looking at shoes when I spotted him._

_Queen C: Well, good thing you spotted him first so you could avoid his judgmental ass._

_D: Uh..._

_Queen C: You didn't._

_D: Well..._

_Queen C: Tell me you didn't start fawning all over him again. He doesn't deserve it!_

_D: No! No, I actually sassed him and threw his "not interested" comment back in his face!_

_Queen C: No! Then what happened?_

_D: Uh, well...I might have stormed into the back room and hid after that._

_Queen C: Dean. We have talked about this. The sass is wasted when you don't stick around to watch them flounder in shame._

_D: I know, I know! It's just that I didn't think I'd be so mad. But when I saw him I just..._

_Queen C: You felt hurt all over again?_

_D: Yeah! Yeah, exactly. And I shouldn't have said anything, but I couldn't help it._

_D: So I bailed before I made a scene in the middle of the shop floor._

_D: Bobby would have been pissed if that happened._

_Queen C: You did the right thing, then. Do you feel better?_

_D: Honestly?_

_Queen C: No, please lie to me dipshit, it’s what our friendship is based on._

_D: I feel worse than I did before._

_Queen C: ???_

_D: Honestly? When he saw me he looked...happy?_

_D: And that just made me so mad, because he couldn't drop the act that he'd been putting on in the cafe for months, like dude I_ know _you can't stand me, you're not at work now, don't pretend_

_Queen C: But?_

_D: I dunno. I thought I'd feel better after I confronted him._

_Queen C: *pats*_

_D: I really thought we had a connection before, you know?_

_D: And I hated myself for reading the whole thing wrong._

_D: And I'd still be doing that if I hadn't overheard him talking that day._

_D: But honestly? He was always nice to me. Maybe he didn't deserve that._

_Queen C: Well, it's too late now, though, isn't it?_

_D: Yeah._

_Queen C: You could always go back to the cafe and apologize._

_D: Yeah._

_Queen C: You're never gonna do that, are you?_

_D: Probably not._

_Queen C: *sigh*_

_Queen C: what am I going to do with you?_


	2. Chapter 2

"Gabe. I've already completed two years of college, you don't have to act like this is my first day at school."

"But Caaaassie, it's important for you to have a balanced breakfast. Breakfast is brain food, and lunch is equally important!"

Castiel sighs as he looks at his plate, where Gabe has constructed a smiley face out of scrambled eggs and bacon for him. In front of the place setting sits a brown paper bag with "Cassie" and a big heart drawn on it with a silver Sharpie.

It's kind of sweet, actually. He might not always like the overt affection Gabriel showers him with, but that's just because he's used to the cold formality of their parents. Maybe he'll never get used to Gabriel, but he definitely prefers him. Everything he does is suffused with warmth and caring, even when he's teasing. Castiel decides that he's fortunate to have found a safe harbor to berth in when everything else has completely fallen apart.

After finishing his breakfast, he grabs the brown bagged lunch off the counter and surprises Gabe with a giant hug before slinging his backpack over his shoulder and heading out the door. He’s excited for this next chapter in his life: new campus, new fall semester, new freedom.

He's the first person to show up for his initial class so he has his pick of seats, choosing the most unobtrusive spot in the back. He sits quietly as other students file into the room until most of the seats are full, then the professor strolls in, closing the door behind him.

Class has barely begun when the door flies open and an extremely tall young man with long hair rushes into the room, apologizing profusely as the professor gives him the stinkeye and gestures grandly for him to come in and take a seat. The late student moves swiftly to the last row and takes the open seat next to Castiel against the back wall.

"I have to sit in the back so I don't block anyone else's view," he leans over and whispers, and Castiel can't help but let out a small giggle after he gets past the shock of being spoken to.

Their professor has been taking roll call, and he raises his hand when he hears "Casti-what the hell kind of name is this? Novak", correcting the professor's pronunciation and getting a raised eyebrow in return. "Novak it is, then," the man says before moving down the list.

“And last, fittingly enough, Sam Winchester" the professor drawls, and the young man next to him raises his hand sheepishly with a tight smile. Leaning over again, he whispers:

"He's never forgiven me for being late to his class twice _last_ year. _Twice_."

Castiel has to cover his mouth this time to suppress another giggle, and then class moves on without incident.

"See you next class!" Sam says as they leave the room, waving as he walks in the opposite direction. Castiel swiftly makes his way to his next class, feeling hopeful about the coming semester.

After his second class, he finds a quiet spot on the quad to open his lunch bag. He sees all the fixings for a BLT, left deconstructed so that Gabe's homemade honey dijon mustard won't make the bread soggy. There's also a bottle of iced tea, a bag of chips, and a bright green apple. He can’t help but smile at his brother's thoughtfulness as he liberates the sandwich elements from their individual baggies, slathers the mustard from a tiny solo cup onto the bread with the provided plastic knife, and layers his bacon, lettuce, and tomato just so.

He observes the campus life around him as he chews. It feels good to be back at school, albeit a different one than before, as if his life is back on track again. Maybe he can't afford to go to Stanford anymore, but it's not like he was especially attached to that school or anyone there. He'd never even gone to campus on a weekend, staying home to study in his room and make an appearance at the gatherings his parents always seemed to have. The dinner parties seemed innocuous at the time, boring to him even, but now he can't look back on them without anger and regret. As he heads across campus for his 2:00 class he’s grateful for the blockers he wears, masking the scent of his shame.

He chooses a seat in the back of the room again out of habit, and as he pulls out his notebook and a pen he sees someone take the seat next to him out of the corner of his eye.

"Hey, it's Novak, right?" says a familiar voice, and he realizes it's Sam from his first class. "Fancy running into you! Is it cool if I sit next to you again?"

"S-sure," Castiel stutters out, eyes wide with surprise before he makes a determined effort to interact like a normal person. "Uh, sorry! You're Sam, right? I'm new here and you caught me off guard."

"What, you're a freshman?" Sam looks at him quizzically, forehead crinkling in confusion.

"No! No, sorry, I mean I transferred over the summer. I'm a junior this year."

"Oh! Yeah, of course! I'm a sophomore myself. And don't worry. You know at least one person on campus now so you're not alone." He smiles, and Castiel feels something inside him loosen, and he finds himself smiling back as the professor calls for everyone's attention.

Once class is over, Sam lingers even after he's packed away his things, and Castiel looks up at him.

"A couple of us are going to go to this cafe over on University. I was wondering if you'd like to come with us? It'll give you a chance to meet some other students. I think you'd be a welcome addition," he says, smiling.

Castiel is a little taken aback, because no one has ever invited him anywhere before without deeper motive, interested more in his parents and their money. He gapes at Sam, not knowing how to respond, and gets a chuckle in response.

"Hey, I promise no one will bite. You seem kind of shy, and that's okay. We won't force you to talk if you don't want to, but you should come. The place we're going has great food and coffee. You can bring your girlfriend if you want."

"My...girlfriend?" Castiel stutters.

"Oh, sorry! I'm not stalking you or anything!” Sam says, putting his hands up even as he grins. “It's just hard to miss the 'Cassie' and the big heart on your lunch bag. I saw it during our first class. That's sweet, that she makes you lunch."

"Uh...yeah, yeah it is," Castiel says, not knowing how to respond. He decides to just go with it. "Sure. I'd love to come to your group...thing. Thank you for inviting me."

"Great!" Sam says, clapping him on the shoulder. "I'll walk with you!"

They move out of the classroom and down the hall to the outside doors, Sam happily chatting away about other classes he's taking, the direction he wants to take for his degree, his law school aspirations. It's only a ten-minute walk to the cafe and by the time they arrive he feels comfortable even though he's barely said anything in response. It's nice, being around someone as exuberant as Sam who isn't actively teasing him like Gabriel. He admits to Sam that his brother owns a cafe in town as well, and that he worked there over the summer and probably will again during the holidays, and by then they've reached their destination.

"So this is Brady," Sam says, gesturing to a blond guy in an armchair, "and Jess," a blonde girl who occupies one side of the loveseat, "and Sarah," a brunette with a lovely smile who's in the armchair next to Brady. Sam grabs the seat next to Jess, and Castiel is glad to take the last empty armchair. "Everybody, this is Castiel, he's got a couple of classes with me and he just transferred this year."

He nods, making an effort to smile as everyone greets him warmly, and it's not long before Castiel participates in their discussion with enthusiasm. They're all in the same year as Sam, exceedingly bright and engaging and he's having so much fun talking to them that he doesn't even realize until much later that night -- as he's lying awake in bed and staring at the ceiling -- that he's finally managed to make friends.

 _Maybe things will get better_ , he thinks to himself, still smiling as he falls asleep.

∞

"Hey Dean!" Sam calls as he comes into the backroom of Singer's Sporting Goods. "Where are you?"

"Back here, Sammy!" Dean says, poking his head out of the kitchen area. "How was the first day of sophomore year?" He smiles as he comes out, clapping his brother on the back before getting him into a headlock and ruffling his hair for a second.

"Hey, quit it!" Sam shrieks, pulling away and running his hand through his hair to get it back in place. He'd told Dean he wouldn't cut it until he graduated law school, and given how fast it was growing he’ll probably have Rapunzel level locks by the time that happens. They head into the break room together, and Dean sits back down in front of his dinner as Sam pulls out the chair across from him.

"It was really good, I think I'm gonna like all the classes I had today. I met up with some of my friends at the end of the day so we could catch up, brought this transfer student who's in a couple of my classes."

"Transfer as in foreign?"

"Ha, no, just from another school. He's a junior with us this year."

"That's good," Dean says, taking a bite of his sandwich. "What brings you over here?"

"Oh, Castiel -- that's the new guy -- told me his brother owns that cafe across the way, _Butter Than the Rest?_ It always sounded weird to me, I mean, who puts butter in their _coffee_?" He shudders, thinking about it. "I never went over there because it weirded me out; but he swears it's actually good, and his brother makes good pastries and stuff so I decided to swing by and take a look at it since it's close to here anyway. Maybe we'll go over there sometime when you don't already have food."

"Uh, yeah. Sure. I could do that," Dean shrugs noncommittally. When Sam mentioned the cafe his heartbeat picked up for a second, and he feels guilty all over again. He's never told Sam about how he used to go in there every time he worked, crushing on the guy behind the counter.

"Dean?" Sam says, and he shakes himself out of his reverie. He realizes he's been staring off into space, lost in thought and ignoring his brother completely.

"Sorry! Just, uh...wool-gathering, I guess."

"Uh-huh." Sam peers at him, unconvinced. "Anything you want to share?" he asks, but looks resigned when Dean shakes his head.

"Nah. Tell me about this new stray you've adopted."

" _Dean_. Jesus, not everyone I become friends with needs to be compared to a pet."

"Please, Sammy, you've always had a soft spot for the needy. How many did you take in when we were kids?"

"That was one time, Dean! There was only one dog I ever brought home!"

"Yeah, but there were plenty of non-canine strays, Sammy. You befriended every lonely kid you could get close to, as I recall." He good-naturedly kicks Sam under the table as he sputters indignantly. "It's not a bad trait, kiddo. I was always proud of you for that. Dad, too."

"Yeah, well, maybe I'm just mobilizing an intellectual force to use against you on game night, did you ever think of that?"

"Please. Your best efforts are no match for me."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. What about you? You've been here a few months now, have you been making any friends?" Dean feels another pang, thinking about the one person he'd wanted to get friendly with before he overheard how wrong he'd been about it.

"Well, a lot of the people here in the store are great. That kid Kevin in shoes is actually a snarky little bastard once he gets comfortable around you. It's his first year at Berkeley too, so you might see him around. Couple of the others are cool, too. They're all younger than me, though, I haven't had the chance to interact with anyone my own age yet. Maybe once I start subbing I'll be able to meet some more people."

Bobby had been good enough to give Dean a job here at the beginning of the summer while he got his certification to teach in the state and looked for a job. He hasn't landed anything permanent yet, but he'll be working as a substitute in the local school district, and once he gets known it will be a lot easier for him to get a placement somewhere.

He's yet to tell Sam exactly what happened back home to make him leave, and he doesn't know if he wants to. He thinks he's done a pretty good job over the years of keeping things off of Sam's radar and a part of him feels it should stay that way, but he can see the way his brother looks at him sometimes. Like he knows Dean has a secret, a burden that's pressing on him and making it hard to breathe.

Sam keeps him company for the rest of his break before heading home, and Dean spends the night until close in a funk. He's been wondering lately if he hadn't made a huge mistake when he saw Blue in the store last week. Maybe he should go back to the cafe, test the waters, make an apology both for snapping at him and acting like a creeper. Maybe if he does that he'll stop feeling like there's a constant knot in the pit of his stomach and he can stop thinking about it so much. He should have, at least, been able to maintain a sense of professionalism when he saw him in the store, not let his hurt feelings run away with him. Blue had always been nice to his face despite his now obvious discomfort, and Dean should have been able to do the same.

A week goes by, and he vacillates between being determined to make an apology and being positive he didn't do anything wrong.

Another week passes, and Dean finally does the walk of shame into the cafe before his shift one afternoon. He just wants to see if Blue is around, no harm in it. If he _is_ there, Dean will be perfectly detached and professional and just order his coffee. If Blue seems receptive, maybe he'll apologize for how he acted that night. And for having ever made him uncomfortable. Maybe.

He recognizes the dark-haired girl at the counter; she's been working there for some time and he's chatted with her before, so after he orders and pays he decides to take a chance.

"Hey, is that guy with the dark hair still working here? Uh, he had something different on his name tag every week? "

"Oh, yeah, Clarence," she drawls as she mixes his drink. Dean flinches, deciding he prefers to keep thinking of him as Blue. "His name’s not on the schedule anymore and I haven't seen him in weeks, so I guess he doesn't work here anymore, huh?"

"Oh. Yeah," Dean says, almost to himself, disappointment and guilt taking hold. It's silly, really. He doesn't actually know the guy, and they'd barely spoken to each other -- but there'd been _something_ about him. Something that made Dean light up whenever he saw him. He'd never felt that way around anyone before; not since he'd moved here, and certainly never about anyone back home. He misses the excitement he felt whenever he'd come in and Blue looked up at him, eyes so bright even if he never really smiled.

Dean shakes his head as he takes his coffee from the barista, leaving in a fog of regret as he walks across the street and into Singer’s, mentally kicking himself for his stupidity. He was just a guy, after all, and a guy who was apparently "not interested" in him in any way. There'll be other guys. Maybe there'll be other girls.

Even so, he wishes desperately that he could go back to the beginning of the summer and do things differently.

∞

"Hey Castiel, we'll see you over at the cafe, right?" says Sarah, as she gathers her books after class. "We're going to talk Halloween party logistics!"

"Sure, I'll meet you guys there," he says, gathering up his books and putting them carefully into his backpack. They’re several weeks into the semester now, and every Monday evening after Professor Moseley's Argument in Essays class Castiel heads over to the cafe on University Drive to meet up with his friends.

 _Friends_.

He feels transformed, relaxed in a way he never did while living with his parents and all their rigid Alpha expectations. The topic of secondary gender is never even discussed in the group, even though he spends several hours with them at least a couple times a week, mostly with Sam.

It didn’t take long for Gabriel to notice the marked change in his brother, but to his credit he didn’t press even though his curiosity was killing him; Castiel eventually relented to tell Gabe all about his new friends, starting timidly at first as though it was a whispered confession, but eventually so bolstered by his brother's enthusiasm that he rattled on at length.

Castiel feels like he's finally found a place, a group of people he likes who actually enjoy his company without expectations, who make him feel relaxed and accepted. He's finally around people who don't care for his money, his influence, or his status, because they don't even know that he has any. He doesn't, not really -- not anymore. He can never stop being an Alpha, but he never has to act like one, and he'll be perfectly content if no one ever knows that about him.

As he pushes the door to the cafe open he smiles at the sound of the chimes, alerting the group to his arrival. He _really_ needs to make Gabe buy those for his own store. Sam turns, leaning against the back of the loveseat and raising himself up a little.

"Castiel, I already got your drink but I didn't know if you'd want food!"

He makes his way to the group, dropping his backpack next to the empty armchair he'd come to think of as 'his' and grabbing his coffee off the table with a grateful smile.

"Thanks, Sam."

There's something about Sam that always put him at ease, something more than his easygoing and honest nature, but Castiel can't quite put a finger on it. He's not attracted to Sam, but being around him makes it easy to relax, to be himself, to engage with the others, who are now in fierce discussion about the costumes they're planning for the big Halloween party on the Friday after next.

"Jess, you cannot dress as a nurse when you are literally going to be a _nurse_ , that's like cheating!"

"I have to agree, the whole point of Halloween is to come as you _aren't_."

"Which is exactly the point, because I am actually _not yet_ a nurse so dressing like one is not out of bounds."

"Castiel, we need a tie-breaking vote here because I _really_ want to see Jess dressed as a nurse," says Brady.

"Yeah, because you have a _kink._ "

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"Well, I think that wearing a nurse costume would be aspirational and therefore I have to cast my vote in the yes column, if only to increase the chances that Jess will someday be successful."

"Yes!"

"Jesus, Castiel, it's no wonder you're so good in Moseley's subject, you're like the walking posterboy for making a classy argument."

"OK," says Sam, rubbing his hands together and leaning forward. "So Jess is nursing it up for sure, and Sarah has decided to go with the classics and do vampire," at which she bares her teeth and makes a hissing sound to drive the point home. "Brady, what are you doing again?"

"I've got that horse head, it's hilarious, and I can wear regular clothes."

"Well that's definitely ‘come as you aren't’ for you, I guess, since you're not wearing a horse's _ass_."

"That's out of bounds, Blake!"

"What about you, Sam?" asks Castiel, sipping his coffee even as he chuckles to himself about the ongoing debate. "It's going to be hard to top the discomfort that Brady intends to subject himself to."

"It doesn't get _that_ hot..."

"Dude, you have to pull it up every time you want to take a drink, you're going to have facial chafing by the end of the night if nothing else," Sam remarks, sitting back in his seat, laughing. "It also ruins my idea to go as the Sparkle Pony of Death, since it's so similar, and now I have to think of something else. Castiel, help me here."

"You guys could go as Barbie and Ken? I think Sam would make an excellent Barbie."

"Shut _up_ , Brady."

"What are you going as, Castiel?"

"Oh, I wasn't. I've never dressed up for Halloween, or gone to a party."

The entire group drops into stunned silence. He looks around at their shocked faces, gripping his cup more tightly with both hands.

"What? What did I say?"

"Dude," says Brady. "Did I hear you correctly?"

"I'm not sure which part of that statement has me more flummoxed, actually," says Sarah.

"Yeah, how have you never been to a party?" says Jess, incredulously.

"Hold on," Sam says, gesturing to the group for silence as he turns, putting one knee up on the loveseat to face Castiel directly. "What do you mean you've _never_ dressed up for Halloween? Define _never_."

"Oh, well, um...I've never had occasion to wear a costume?"

"What about when you were a kid? What did you wear to go trick or treating?"

"Oh, I, uh, I didn't. Go, I mean."

Sam flops back down in his seat as the entire group stares at Castiel for a few minutes, mouths agape.

"Fuck."

"That is so wrong."

"We need to rectify this situation _stat._ "

"OK, I've got it. Castiel, you and I are gonna pair up. We are going epic on the costume situation, and you are going to this party with us."

"Well, I..."

"No, no, no, I know that you feel awkward around people and you're kind of shy but I have just the solution. I have a masked costume in mind for you."

"Hey!"

"Not a shitty mask like yours, this one will only cover the top half of his face so he'll actually be able to talk and drink like a normal person all night. Do you trust me, Castiel?" Sam puts out his hand, palm up, an open invitation, and Castiel can't help but relax and smile as he slaps his hand over Sam's, their fingers curling around each other's thumbs in a show of solidarity.

"Sure Sam, I trust you."

"Good. When classes are over tomorrow we're going costume shopping."

∞

Sam makes him swear to secrecy before they've even gotten up to the registers in the costume shop, and Castiel agrees readily. Since moving in with Gabriel he's had more exposure to pop culture than ever before, and he's actually really excited about the costumes Sam put together for them, even if he's terribly nervous about going to a party and having to interact with people. He says so as they're waiting for their food, sitting in a booth at the diner they've retreated to for burgers afterwards.

"There's nothing for you to worry about," Sam reassures him, grinning even as he sips from his straw. "Hey, do you think your girlfriend would come? I've got a great costume idea for her that would go along with ours if you want!"

Castiel blinks at him for a minute, completely confused, before he remembers and bursts into laughter. Sam looks mildly alarmed and starts to sputter an apology before Castiel catches his breath and explains himself.

"It's fine, Sam, it's fine, it's just...I'd forgotten."

"You'd forgotten that you have a girlfriend?"

"No, no, not that! I mean, I _don't_ have a girlfriend. I forgot that you thought I did and I never corrected you." Sam looks at him quizzically, eyebrows furrowing together.

"So who's Cassie? I've seen you more than once with a brown bagged lunch that had a big heart and 'Cassie' written on it, I thought that was your girlfriend, but I never wanted to pry."

"No, it's my brother."

"Your brother's name is Cassie?" Sam queries, looking so much more confused than before that Castiel can't help but burst into giggles again. Their food arrives just as he's managing to get his breath back, and he explains as he arranges his burger to his liking.

"No, my older brother is Gabriel. _I'm_ Cassie, at least that's what he calls me even though I hate it. Probably _because_ I hate it."

"Yeah? Mine still calls me 'Sammy' even though I'm taller than him now."

"Well, Castiel doesn't lend itself to cool nicknames. My middle name is James. I always wondered what it would be like to be a Jimmy or something equally normal, but my parents were very formal."

"Where'd it come from, anyway? Castiel? It’s very unique."

"Our mother had an angel phase. Her aspirations were pretty high in the beginning with Gabriel, obviously."

"Well, I've heard of that one, he's one of the archangels, right?" Castiel nods, taking a giant bite of his burger. "Your name I've never heard of before though, which one was he?" Castiel rolls his eyes as he chews and swallows before answering.

"The angel of Thursday."

Sam just stares at him for a second, looking for all the world like he's trying to think of an intellectual response, before he busts out laughing as Castiel continues.

"Yes, mother's lofty ambitions seemed to have diminished between his birth and mine. We think it's because she set the bar so high for him and got disappointed so much in return she figured she should aim _really_ low with me." Sam is now bent over his plate, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes as he struggles to breathe. "Neither of us have a good relationship with our parents now. I wonder why?" he muses wryly as Sam wipes his eyes with a napkin, finally gaining control of himself and picking his burger back up.

"Oh man, this is why you need to get out more. No one should be deprived of your acerbic wit. Can I ask, though? Why..."

"Why am I twenty years old and just now making friends who enjoy my acerbic wit?" Sam nods, and Castiel considers thoughtfully how to answer.

"Well, I told you my parents were disappointed with Gabe. Which is stupid, because he obviously has drive and ambition: he started a business from scratch and now he makes a great living. But he wasn't...well, he wasn't exactly what they wanted. Biologically. They were more fortunate with me. _Much_ more." He raises his eyebrows at Sam, willing him to understand, and he can see from the slightly shocked look on his face that he does.

"Dude, I never would have guessed. I thought you were a Beta."

"Yes, well. After everything that happened at home, I'm kind of turned off by anyone knowing what I am, so I wear blockers."

"Can I ask? What happened?"

"Our costumes are returnable, right?"

"What? Dude..."

"It's just that...you might not look at me the same after I tell you." Sam nods sagely, pushing his now empty plate aside and leaning on the table, giving Castiel his full attention even as he hesitates.

"Once I presented, my parents put a lot of pressure on me. How to act, what to study, who to interact with -- which, it turns out, was nobody for a long time. They were obsessed with molding me into the perfect Alpha. They think I'm a terrible excuse for one."

"Bullshit."

"Well. I presented a few years after Gabriel left home, and the casual indifference they'd always shown him transformed into a laser focus on me. I always had to act a certain way, read the right books, talk to the correct sort of people. They sent me to an Alpha prep school on the East coast, and I hated it. I didn't make any friends, but they didn't care about that, only that I got the best grades. That part wasn't hard, actually. I've always loved learning, even if it meant I spent all of my time alone with my books."

"Christ."

"I thought they just wanted the best for me, you know? They were disappointed in Gabriel, and although it seems ridiculous to me now it made sense at the time. With everything he's given me, now, I'm ashamed sometimes to think I believed they were right in their judgement of him." He stops, taking a shaky breath and trying to compose himself.

"It's OK. I'm still here." Castiel nods as their waitress pops over to replenish their drinks, pausing until she's gone again.

"I graduated with honors, and they wanted me to go Ivy League. They were quite insistent, actually, but I hated being on the East Coast. Even if I wasn't completely happy at home, I didn't exactly know it at the time. It was the place that I knew, so I wanted to go back.”

“Makes sense,” Sam said, nodding. “I still miss Kansas sometimes, even though I was miserable living there.”

"I had no interest in campus life, as you might imagine, so my parents agreed to let me live at home as long as I presented myself at their little events. There was a group of families they regularly had dinner parties with, a close knit circle of local blue bloods. I’m sure you can imagine the type. None of them are really important to this story except the Allens and their daughter, Daphne, who was thirteen the first time I met her that fall."

There's a dawning look of horror on Sam's face that says _I know where this is going_.

"I liked the Allens well enough, and Daphne was a very sweet girl, always placed next to me at dinner. There was little we had in common, but I was kind to her as a 'proper Alpha' should be and my parents seemed pleased with that. For two years, at no matter the event, Daphne would be next to me at the table, me never wondering why. Then, right before Memorial Day, my mother said we’d be spending the weekend with the Allens.” He crosses his hands in front of him on the table, resting his gaze on them as he finally spits out what he's only ever told Gabriel.

"When we got there Mrs. Allen asked me if I'd 'be a dear' and go find her daughter, who was holed up in her room. She told me that I'd have to let myself into the sitting room from the hall and then go knock on Daphne's door, or she wouldn't hear me. It wasn’t until I was poised at her bedroom door and heard the lock click behind me that I realized there was an unfamiliar scent in the air, one I'd never smelled before." He takes a deep breath, raising his clasped hands up to press them against his lips, as though he's trying to keep in the next thing he has to say. He finally rests his chin on his hands and spits it out. "Daphne had gone into heat, and our parents intended for me to give into my instincts and take her as my mate."

"What?" Sam says loudly, before remembering his surroundings and lowering his voice. "I mean, I kind of saw this coming but Jesus fucking _Christ_ I did not see this coming.”

“It’s humbling, looking back now, to think of how I missed all the signs of what they were planning. I knew the kind of people my parents were, the kind of people their friends were, but now I feel as though I never really looked at them. Or rather, I looked, but I didn’t _see_.”

“Jesus Christ,” Sam breathes out again. “I’ve read stories, case studies even, of blue-blood families mating their children off by design to facilitate a desirable connection, but...fuck. Reading about it isn’t the same as _knowing_ about it." Castiel nods before he continues.

"I've always been proud of my level-headedness. I've never thought of myself as the kind of Alpha who would give into my baser instincts, who would treat another human being as an animal. But..." he leans his elbows on the table, putting his face in his hands. "I wanted to, Sam. I _wanted_ to, so badly."

"You mean you _didn't?_ " Sam whispers, incredulously, and Castiel puts his arms down with a sigh.

"She begged me to take her for _three days_ , Sam. They'd stocked the sitting room area with food and water and shut us in to let nature take its course -- but I couldn't, even though it warred with my own instincts. She wasn't in her right mind, capable of deciding if she actually wanted me as a mate. And she was _fifteen_ years old! The thought that this was the life her parents had chosen for her, to get mated to an Alpha of their choosing as soon as she had her first heat...it made me _sick_ , Sam.

I did what I could to make sure she ate and drank water and slept but the rest of it just...it _repulsed_ me, Sam. It felt like I would be forcing myself on someone without their own agency. A _child_. The Allens are a powerful family, very old money, and they treated their own daughter like livestock. Like a child bride in a third world country.”

“People like to act like that type of thing doesn’t happen here, but it does,” Sam said sadly. “Even in places you don’t think to look.”

“Yes, well. I tried to report them to the police...after. Gabriel went with me. Nothing ever came of it. I’m sure they greased all the necessary palms to make it go away. It’s how this type of thing still goes on. My mother called me ‘ungrateful’ as I walked out of their house.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “I haven’t heard from them since. Neither has Gabriel. They’ve abandoned all pretense even with him.”

“Is that who came to get you?”

“Not exactly. The Allens called my mother after finding out that their daughter had no mating bite, and they threw me out of their house, furious. I was happy to go. I’d spent three days hating them for putting me in that situation, but somehow I still believed my parents didn’t understand exactly what happened.” He sighed, leaning into his forearms on the table.

“How long did it take for you to realize?”

“The length of the drive from the Allens house to our own, so maybe thirty minutes? During which they appealed to my sense of honor and duty and doing what was proper for an Alpha of my class. That’s when I knew them for what they were. I didn’t even go in the house once we’d gotten into the driveway, just turned and walked away nothing on me but my wallet.

Thankfully I knew Gabriel's address, even though up to then we were hardly close. I took a cab to his house, but he wasn’t home and I didn’t know where to find him, so I just sat on the porch and waited. It was hours later, well after dark, before he came home. He took me inside without question and just...took care of me. I was in shock, I think. I couldn't tell him what had happened for hours."

Sam sits back in the booth and just stares across the table for a good five minutes without speaking.

"Did you really think I'd never talk to you again after that?" he asks, finally. Castiel swallows, looking down at his hands.

"I don't know. I'm still not sure how I feel about it all. They're my _parents_ , but what they did...I hated it. I hate _them_ , Sam," he whispered, feeling sick inside. "What kind of person hates their parents?"

"The fact that they're your parents is irrelevant. They're awful human beings, and that's the only thing that matters. Maybe they can redeem themselves someday. My dad did, but that's a story for another time. Right now the only thing you have to know is that you stood up for what you believed was right, and no one deserves to shame you for that, Castiel. No one."

"Do you think they'll ever change, Sam? Like your dad?"

"I don't know, man. Everyone's situation is unique, just as the way they act in response to it is. My dad went to a dark place for a long time because of something that happened, but eventually something _else_ happened that snapped him back out of it again. I think he was lucky, to be given a second chance."

"That must have been hard on you."

"Yeah," Sam sighs as he throws a couple bills on the table to cover the check. "Let's get out of here. I'll give you the Winchester summary as we walk to the car."

∞

They each slide out of the booth, Sam shrugging into his jacket as Castiel dons his tan trench coat, something he'd pulled out of Gabe's closet at random once the weather started to cool. Sam starts once they get outside.

"When I was a baby our house caught fire, some kind of electrical issue that started upstairs. My dad had fallen asleep in front of the TV in the living room, and he woke up to the sound of my mom, screaming. He managed to get me out of the nursery and hand me off to my brother, who got me out of the house while our dad went back for mom, but it was too late."

"How old were you both when that happened?" Castiel asks, eyes wide with shock.

"I was maybe six months? My brother was just four."

"Oh my god."

"It's going to sound terrible, but I don't actually miss my mom. I have no memory of her, so it affected me the least out of everyone. I don't think my brother ever got over it, pretty sure he still misses her. I think that's why he chose to go into teaching, actually, because that's what she did."

They reach Sam's car and duck inside to escape the chilly night air, and he continues his story as he navigates out of his parking spot into the street.

"Our dad was pretty much destroyed after she died, and he sank into a depression that he self-medicated with alcohol for a long time. Dean was more like a father to me the first ten years of my life than he ever was."

"Dean?" Cas asks, and can't help the curiosity that piques at the sound of that name, though he knows it's just a stupid coincidence.

"Yeah, sorry, Dean is my brother. I guess I never told you his name before."

"Oh, yes, the teacher. Sorry," he says absently, and hates himself for losing focus on Sam long enough to feel disappointed.

"He was the one who always made sure I was fed, who tucked me in at night, made me take a bath. I think he learned to read telling stories to me before bed. Most of the time when I look back at my childhood, he's the only one I really remember always being there. Dad was basically a functioning alcoholic, in that he managed to be sober enough in the daylight hours to hold down a job, but once he got home he would just get into his recliner and get good and numb. Never angry or violent, just...void, I guess. He's null, our dad. Lost his scent when our mom died, never got it back."

"Oh, Sam. That's awful."

"Yeah, but...he's better now. It's just another part of who he is, and he's learned to live with it. He's been sober for a long time, too."

"How'd that happen?" he asks, even though they're in his Gabe's driveway by this point.

"Can you keep this a secret? It's not bad, just private."

"Of course, Sam. You have my word."

"When he was thirteen, my brother presented as an Omega. In _Kansas_." Sam doesn't really need to elaborate, because even Castiel knows how unforgiving midwestern attitudes are towards Omegas in general, but a male Omega? It was a rare designation to be a man who could also produce life, maybe one in every ten thousand live births. That did nothing to elevate them in a place like Kansas. "That did something to Dad, woke him up, made him look at the life he was living. By the time Dean had gotten through his first heat Dad was in AA, though it took almost three years to get his one year chip. Now he has a ten."

"Wow. That's...that's amazing, Sam. He must be very strong."

"Not really, not according to him. He thinks if he'd been strong he would never have gone down the wrong road for so long. He likes to say that he's where he is now because of his support system."

"You and Dean?"

"Yeah, but we have some family friends that never gave up on him completely, Jody and Ellen who still live back there, and our Uncle Bobby, who we're living with out here now. The point is, you don't have to have to carry the entire burden of your mistakes yourself, if you can admit you've made some and that you need help. Dad says that was actually the hardest part for him, and he couldn't bring himself to do it until he realized that he needed to be there for someone else, for Dean."

Castiel looks out the window at the charming little house that has felt more like home to him these past few months than the place he spent most of his life in. He's learned to lean on Gabriel a little, but he's wary of needing too much, of being a burden. Sam elbows him a little, as if he can read his thoughts.

"It helps to spread it around a little. You've got more people in your life you can rely on now. Not just your brother."

Castiel smiles, feeling the shell he'd always felt trapped in crack open just a little more.


	3. Chapter 3

It's the Friday before Halloween and Dean is covering his last class for today, which is junior history. He's actually having some fun with them, since it's his preferred subject and he feels strongly about his ability to make it interesting to the most unaffected teenager, even if no one takes the substitute seriously.     By the time the bell rings he's feeling the best he has since the summer, practically whistling as he makes his way down to the office. October has been a good month for Dean as far as teaching goes, and he's thrilled to be getting regular calls sub. He realizes he's happier here than he ever was back home, and he knows it's because the weight of his designation isn't following him everywhere like a brand. Here no one really seems to care what you are, but he's wary of being treated like a freak again, so he religiously wears blockers and puts his suppressant patch in a discreet spot so no one can ever do more than speculate.

"You look chipper," says the office secretary, a pretty brunette named Lisa he met a couple of weeks ago when he came here the first time. "Most subs have a harangued look about them by the time they're finished for the day."

He grins at her, his good mood infectious, and she can't help but smile in return.

"Can't help it. History's my favorite subject and this is my favorite time of year!"

"What, Halloween or just the fall?"

"Well, I love Halloween on its own, but fall is the best time of year because it's prime pie season. An utter overabundance of pie. So much glorious bounty!" he says, eyes widening comically until she starts giggling.

"You just moved here a few months ago, right?" she asks, and he nods in the affirmative. "There's a huge Halloween party next Friday night that a group of my friends go to every year. You should come, it'll be fun!"

"Costume party?"

"Is there another kind worth going to?"

"Count me in, then, I already have a go-to costume sitting in my closet waiting to be dusted off and taken out on the town."

They exchange numbers and chat a little more before Dean grabs his stuff and heads out to the parking lot, getting comfortable behind the wheel of the Impala before he checks his text messages.

_Moose: pizza for dinner tonight?_

_Queen C: OMG there's a Firefly marathon on this weekend we should Skype during lemme know_

_Dad: hey Dean, been a few weeks, just want to check up on you kids. Call me whenever._

He looks at the hour and quickly does timezone math in his head before calling his dad, who should be finished in his workshop by this time of day.

"Hey son," John answers, and Dean can hear the soft smile in his voice. "Didn't expect you to call me back so quickly, but I'm glad. How're my boys?"

"We're good, Dad, I promise. Sam seems to be doing well, he likes his classes and he's got a group of friends that he pals around with that seem decent. I haven't met any of them yet, but they're more the 'get together and study' type than the 'get together at drunk frat parties type' so I don't feel the need to inspect them just yet." He hears John chuckling softly down the end of the line, pictures him sitting at the kitchen table in the last sunlight of the evening, having a cup of coffee.

"Well, I text him every so often but I don't want to bother him with calling his old man, you know?"

"Oh, so it's okay to bother me?" Dean chides, and John laughs louder this time.

"Well, you've always been the more responsible one so I know you'll actually call me back out of obligation," his dad teases in return, and despite how happy Dean’s been here there's a distinct ache in his chest where he misses his dad.

It hasn't always been easy between them, but Dean presenting as Omega finally made something in John wake up. He'd eventually confessed to Dean that he felt ashamed every time he stood up in a meeting and recalled the fateful morning that he woke up and caught the scent of his oldest son's fear and distress and panic, even with his dulled senses.

He realized Dean was going into heat with a father who hadn't prepared him and was ill-equipped to deal with it, and it was the straw that broke the camel's back. After that confession, Dean had wrapped his arms around his father as they both cried, and somehow those tears worked to fill the gaping fissures in their relationship.

It was his dad who made all the arrangements with Bobby when Sam wanted to go to school here, and then for Dean when he needed to get away from Kansas, even though it tore him up to watch his boys leave him behind.

"Did I lose you, Dean?" he hears his dad say, and shakes himself out of his stupor.

"Sorry! Sorry, I was wool-gathering for a second there."

"Oh, that's fine. You know I never have anything to talk about anyway, nothing ever changes over here. I'm still working on that custom bed frame I told you about last time we talked and even I'm bored with it at this point." Dean can't help but chuckle. John started doing woodworking years ago as a form of therapy, and somehow it took off to the point where he works from home and makes a decent living at it. Even has himself an Etsy shop, which tickles Dean to no end even if most of the orders he gets are for word plaques of "COEXIST" with both the Alpha and Omega as well as male and female symbols worked into it. "Tell me what you've been up to?"

He puts the phone on speaker so he can drive while he fills John in on the substitute gig and what's been going on at the store, even telling him about getting invited to the Halloween party.

"That's great! What about the girl that invited you, she your type at all?" Having realized years ago that he'd neglected to be a good father to his boys, John now compensates by acting as both father _and_ mother whenever possible, grilling them on their love lives. Pretty soon, Dean thinks, he's going to start asking when he can expect grandchildren.

"I dunno, Dad. She's pretty and friendly, but I don't know her that well."

"She a brunette?"

"Dad!"

"What? You have a type!"

"Ugh, yes, she's a brunette."

"Knew it."

"Hey, she asked _me_ to the party, I didn't come on to her at all."

"Well, is there someone else you _do_ want to come on to?" Dean can't help but think about Blue when his dad says that, of his bright eyes and messy hair and that certain something that just won't let him fade from his mind. "There is, isn't there?" Dean sighs. Since he quit drinking John's entirely too sharp sometimes.

"Well, there was someone I was interested in over the summer. But...some things happened and basically I never got his number and I haven't seen him around in a while, so..."

"Aw, Dean, I'm sorry. That's bad luck."

"Yeah. It's dumb. I mean, we barely spoke to each other, he worked in this cafe I went to, but...there was something. I dunno."

"Listen, don't discount the 'something' feeling. You've always had good instincts, son. Trust your gut. If you happen to run into him again, you should take a chance. You're not in Kansas anymore."

"Hardy har har."

"You know what I mean. Don't let any of the shit that happened here hold you back. You deserve better than that. You and your brother. I mean it."

Dean breathes out heavily as he pulls into the parking lot of their local pizzeria.

"Yeah, thanks Dad."

∞

Dean manages to get the door open despite juggling an extra-large pizza and a two-liter bottle of soda, kicking it shut behind him and sliding the box onto the kitchen counter before depositing the soda in the fridge.

"Sammy, you around?"

"Yeah, I'll be out in a second!"

Dean busies himself in the kitchen, grabbing a couple of paper plates from the top of the fridge, getting glasses out of the cabinet next to it, and tearing off paper towels for them to use as napkins. He's in the living room getting Netflix up and running when Sam comes out, dressed in sweats and running his hands through his damp hair.

"Hey, thanks for picking all this up! How'd it go today?"

"It was great, man. The history teacher I subbed for might be looking to retire at the end of the school year, so that's at least one possible opening for me to apply to and it's only October. Plus, I got invited to a party by the hot receptionist so there's that."

“She a brunette?”

“Jesus Christ, you’re as bad as dad! Who says hi, by the way.”

“Yeah, I’ll call him later. You didn’t answer my question.”

“ _Yes_ , okay?”

Sam elbows him with a grin as they move to the kitchen to get their food.

"Finally! You've been acting like a hermit ever since you moved here. I was wondering if you'd ever get your groove back."

"Yeah, just call me Stella, I guess," Dean jokes in response, but it sounds hollow even to him and Sam picks up on it immediately.

"Dean...are you ever going to trust me enough to tell me what happened back home?"

"What?" he replies, eyes going wide. "What makes you think I don't trust you?"

"So something _did_ happen." Shit. He needs to watch the way he words things around Sam more carefully, because he's sharp as a tack and worse than a terrier when he decides to sink his teeth into something.

"Sammy, I..." but he trails off. He doesn't know what to say.

"Dean, please. I'm your _brother._ "

Dean sighs, running his hand through his hair and rubbing the back of his neck before grabbing his food and sitting at their kitchen table. He gestures for Sam to do the same, taking a bite out of his pizza and chewing it slowly, thinking about how to begin.

"It's not that I don't trust you or want your help, Sammy, I swear. I think I just don't want to put any of my shit on you."

"Dean, you've always been overprotective of me. It got on my nerves when I was a kid, but looking back I can understand it. Now, though? We're older, and I'm not a kid anymore. We're equals, Dean. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you."

"I know. I mean, I really do know. It's just that it's hard to kick the habit, I guess." He fiddles with his pepperoni, rearranging it on the slice in front of him before taking another bite. "I don't think I ever told you how hard it was for me in school after I presented, did I?" He looks up, meeting Sam's eyes, because he wants to convey that he's not ashamed of what he is.

"You never told me but...I knew, actually. Or, I knew a great deal. Word travels in a small school, and even though you were a senior by the time I got there I heard a lot of talk." He fidgets in his seat, like he's uncomfortable now with the conversation even though he's the one that started it. "I know Alastair and his gang were terrible to you. I always wanted to ask you about it, but I didn't know how back then. And you always made such a show of being okay and never being bothered with anything, so I thought maybe it wasn't as bad as I'd heard from people."

"Yeah, well. You know from all those group meetings we did with Dad that putting on a show for the public is just the Winchester Way."

"I'm not the public, Dean."

"Yeah, well. You were just a kid, man. To me you still are, despite being freakishly tall." This is rewarded with a kick from said freakishly long legs under the table, and he dodges them as he scoots his chair back and gets them both a couple more slices from the box on the counter. "I don't want to rehash all the stuff from school, but it was constant harassment. Got cornered a couple of times and had to fight my way out of it." He puts his hand up as Sam opens his mouth. "Don't worry. We never told you, but Dad spent a lot of time training me how to defend myself, and I'm really good at it. Had to be."

He pauses for a minute, thinking about how determined John was to become better for Dean, for both of them, how he never judged him as less, or treated him like he was weak after he presented. He wonders what things would be like if his dad hadn't turned his life around.

"It followed you to college, too, didn’t it?" Sam asks when Dean's been silent for too long. "I remember well enough the midwest mentality towards Omegas." Dean sits back in his chair, looking thoughtful.

"I thought when I got to college I could just be myself, and people would just see me as Dean and not my designation, you know? But too many people from home also went there, and even if they had no malicious intent they still couldn't help but whisper to their friends as I walked past, and soon everybody knew."

"Jesus, Dean, why didn't you transfer or something?"

"Stubbornness? I didn't want to seem like I'd been chased off, even though I knew that there were a lot of other places that wouldn't treat me like such a freak. I just wanted to put my head down and do my work and get my degree like any other student, so that's what I did. I planned to stay local, get a job teaching out there, and then maybe in a few years I could take my experience and transfer somewhere else."

"So what happened?"

Dean sighs, pushing his plate aside and leaning his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes as he rests his elbows on the table.

"I started subbing out there in the fall like we talked about before you moved here. There was one high school I really liked -- I'd done my student teaching there, and a lot of the faculty were decent, so back in April when I saw a job posting for a position there I applied right away. Got through the first round of interviews pretty easily, was feeling really good about my chances." He sits up, crossing his arms and staring at empty plate in front of him. "For my second interview, I had to meet with the principal and the head of HR in the main school office." He raises his head, crossing his arms on the table and leaning into them a little bit before he continues with a deep breath.

"They told me they'd be more than happy to give me the job over all the other applicants if I'd... _perform_ for them. Both of them." He hears the sharp intake of breath from his brother but he averts his gaze because he doesn't want to lose his train of thought. "I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I mean, since I presented people have always treated me like I was for sale, propositioned me constantly. I’ve had people grope me and try to get me cornered in places, but this, this was new. This was two professionals in the line of work I was trying to get into telling me that they'd only give me the job if I'd prostitute myself for them, and the fact that they felt that safe enough to do that made my blood boil."

"Jesus _Christ_ , Dean..."

"Obviously, I told them both to go fuck themselves and got up to leave, but they weren't having that." Sam looks a little green around the gills, and Dean raises a hand to reassure him. "As I said before, Dad taught me to take care of myself, but this time...well, I had to draw blood to get my point across. The head of HR had a broken arm, the principal's nose needed two surgeries after that, and I spent the night in the hospital with a concussion, a sore throat and a set of hand-shaped bruises around my neck.

It was a closer call than I'd ever had before. The receptionist in the outer office had forgotten something and come back, and she called the police when she heard all the shouting and commotion. Otherwise..." he shuddered to think about what would have happened, because the last thing he remembered clearly were the hands on his throat as he lost consciousness -- and then he woke up in the hospital, flailing about at some unseen threat before he realized where he was and that the arms holding him down were his dad's.

"Please tell me these assholes are in jail right now," Sam asked, and a look from Dean was enough. "They tried to press charges against _you_ , didn't they?"

"Jody was the first officer on the scene, if you believe it, and that turned out to be a huge advantage because she wouldn't let them spin some bullshit story and get away with it, but the judge dismissed everything. Their word against mine, he said. Dad was _furious_. He thought I should take the opportunity to come out here and be near you, start over where nobody knows anything about me, and wouldn't care if they did. Because 'fuck Kansas' as he said."

"Fuck, Dean."

"I was so _tired_ , Sammy," he says, defeatedly. "So tired of everybody treating me like trash because of how I was _born_ , you know? Like that had anything to do with my intelligence or my ability. Tired of people sneering at me and asking if I wanted their knot, if I was gonna present for them like a good little bitch. I thought if I could start over without anyone knowing bout me, everything would be better."

"Is it better? Or is it worse to have to hide who you are?" Sam wondered. "I know it's important to start fresh but if you have to keep your identity a secret, isn’t that just a different kind of prison?"

"I don't know, Sam. Maybe it's too soon. Besides, I don't look at it as hiding -- more like I'm not broadcasting. I should be able to share that part of myself just with people that I care about, that I'm close to. I shouldn't have to deal with the whole world around me being privy to my business and making a judgement call about me just based on that.”

Sam leans back heavily in his chair, staring at his brother.

"Shit. You and one of my friends could probably talk for hours about how you've been stereotyped and not even come up for air."

"Right, because there's nothing that makes for scintillating discussion like shared tragedy." Sam shoves his shoulder as he gets up to go retrieve more soda.

"You're an ass. We’re going to start going to that _Butter than the Rest_ place across from Bobby’s, you should meet us one day."

The mention of the cafe brings Blue to mind again. Dean hasn't been back since the day he went in looking for redemption and was disappointed. He can't even think about the place without feeling regret. He starts cleaning up the table, tossing the napkins and the plates into the trashcan under the sink, twisting the cap on the bottle of soda and putting it into the fridge.

"Maybe, Sam. We'll see."

"Dean." He turns to see Sam gazing somberly at him, hands crossed on the table. "I'm so glad that you're here, man. It means so much to me that you came. I love having you around, and I want you to be able to rely on me like I always relied on you. Okay?" He looks a little worried, like he's offering something that he's always wanted to give but felt wouldn't be accepted, and Dean can't help but shoot him a grateful smile.

"Thanks, Sammy. Means a lot."

∞

The night of the party Castiel is a bundle of nerves as he gets into his costume. He's self-conscious because it's skin tight, but it covers his whole body and the mask covers the top half of his head completely, so no one will recognize him outside of his own group. There's something very specific he's _not_ wearing, but the anonymity his costume affords has emboldened him. He takes a deep breath, reminds himself that he trusts Sam, then heads downstairs with his only accessory.

As he gets to the bottom step he can hear Gabriel talking to Sam in the kitchen, and he can smell him before he even gets to the doorway: the vanilla smell of old books, laced with clean sweat and a trace of musk. He’s always found the scent of Sam comforting, like family. He imagines it’s how Gabe would smell if we weren’t a Beta.

"When you guys come to my place I'll let you all have your first coffee free! You should try our signature drink, the BBC."

"The BBC?"

"Yeah, it stands for Big Butter Coffee. I was originally going to name the shop itself BBC, but I didn't want to get into a licensing fight with Britain."

Castiel rolls his eyes so hard he nearly knocks himself unconscious, but Sam is shaking with laughter as he enters the kitchen.

"Sam, I apologize for my brother, obviously, but I warned you ages ago that he was incorrigible." As the two of them look in his direction they both freeze in place, and Gabe's mouth drops wide open.

"Cassie, are you not wearing blockers?" He curls in on himself a little bit, looking down at his feet and shrugging sheepishly.

"Holy shit, Castiel. How do you feel?" Sam asks, leaning on the counter.

"Um...kind of naked?"

Sam stares at him for a second before he bursts out laughing, joined moments later by a screeching Gabriel, who laughs so hard he doubles over and can't catch his breath for a few minutes.

"Holy shit," is all he manages to get out, and Sam punches him lightly in the shoulder.

"What did I tell you? We are going to _kill it_ at this party."

"Cassie, where have you been hiding all of...that?" says Gabe, waving his hand up and down. "If our parents could see you they'd have to take back everything they ever said about you lacking the proper attributes."

"Gabe!" he shrieks, instinctively putting a hand over his crotch -- but Sam is laughing fit to burst all over again and eventually Castiel can't resist joining him, anxiety over his Alpha scent completely forgotten.

"I'm glad I managed to sneak out of the house before Dean saw me in full costume," says Sam.

"Dean?" Gabriel asks. "Is that your brother? Older or younger?"

"Oh, he's older, four years older than I am. You guys would probably get along great. He _loves_ pie." Gabriel laughs, throwing the dishtowel he's been holding over his shoulder and turning back to gesture at the oven, which holds his latest experiment.

"Pie happens to be my specialty. This little beauty in here is marionberry. You wave that in his face the next time you see him. Now," he says, shooing them towards the door, "get out of my house and go kick ass at this party. Cassie," he says sternly, pointing directly in his face. "Make good choices." Gabe opens the door with a flourish and whacks them with the towel as he ushers them into the night, but not before yelling one last thing before he slams the door behind them. "I hope Sam has condoms, because I can tell you don't have any stuffed into that costume, Cassie!"

They stand on the porch and just look at one another.

"Did I apologize for my brother yet?" asks Castiel, and Sam just laughs and claps him on the back.

"Don't worry about it. I _totally_ have condoms in my back pocket."

Castiel laughs as they head down the driveway to where Sam is parked and slides into the passenger seat, placing his rather large costume accessory at his feet.

They chat about inconsequential things as Sam stops by Sarah's house to pick up the rest of their group. He gives the front seat up to Jess, and then can't help but laugh when Brady tries to clamber into the back while wearing his horse head. He finally gives up and deigns to remove it just for "transportation purposes only, this doesn't mean you guys were right about it being a pain in the ass, it's gonna be awesome!"

Once they get underway, it takes everybody a full minute to realize there's a different scent in the car, and he fidgets as Jess turns around in her seat to stare at him along with Brady and Sarah. No one says anything, and he stares back at them like a deer in headlights.

"Castiel, you sly, sly dog!" Jess finally blurts out with a giant grin and Brady gives him a thumbs up from the other side of the back seat. "Can't believe you’ve been holding out on us. Christ. Anybody else have a huge revelation they wanna make before we get to this thing?"

"Well, I don't know that it's a revelation, but I've got something huge..."

"Yuk, yuk, yuk, Brady, you're a pig and that's no surprise to anyone here," Sarah says as she smacks his chest, and then everyone is back to normal like nothing has happened. Sam catches his eye in the rearview mirror and smiles at him.

"Castiel," Sarah says as she puts her hand on his knee to stop him from bouncing his leg nervously, "we're going to have fun, I promise."

"Yeah!" Jess chimes in from the front, turning back to face forward as she fist pumps the air. "I'm so glad you're going to have your first proper Halloween with us!" They all cheer and he feels emboldened and happy despite being cramped in the backseat in a skintight outfit with a vampire and a giant horse's head.

The party is in full swing by the time they arrive, and once they manage to find a parking spot they extricate themselves from the vehicle without injury. Castiel lags behind, still a little bit nervous, but Sam slows down a bit to meet his stride.

"We've gotta go in together, man, or it's not gonna be as effective. Don't worry. We've got this," he says, clapping him on the shoulder. The others have already disappeared into the house by the time they reach the porch, and Sam pauses for a second to let Castiel take a deep breath.

The entire party comes to a momentary halt when the door swings open on Captain America and the Winter Soldier.

∞

Sam has already left the house by the time Dean gets home from his shift at Singer's, and he's kind of glad. It's not that he's embarrassed, but that he knows he'd be teased relentlessly for falling back on what Sam referred to as "Old Faithful". He doesn't care, though. He loves this costume and spent a good bit of money on it years ago, after he'd spent that entire summer after high school toiling in their dad's workshop for a cut of the profit. He saved virtually every penny just so he could blow some on this single purchase, and if he trots it out almost every year that's his business.

He does, however, send up a silent prayer for the elastic quality of lycra fabric since he isn't nineteen anymore, and when he gets into the costume without issue he gives himself a double thumbs up in the mirror before leaving the house to go meet Lisa and her friends.

He's really looking forward to tonight, because he hasn't done anything recreational since moving to California -- watching Netflix with Sam does not count. He wants to put everything from Kansas behind him for good, make some new friends, start over. He wants to get to know Lisa better, too, see if maybe he can take things in a more than friendly direction, something to help him get over the unrequited crush that he can't seem to forget about despite the passage of two months.

He knows on an intellectual level that a lot of the stuff you see in movies is total bullshit, but he can't help but wonder, even hope, that maybe the reason he can't get Blue out of his mind is because they've bonded somehow. He doesn't believe in true mates or scent bonding, or so he says -- but sometimes when he wakes in the middle of the night, a wisp of dream still clinging to him like an errant cobweb, he feels the distinct sense that something is missing.

He dreams of ice melting in his fingers in the summer sun, faster and faster the more tightly he holds on, until there's nothing left but the cold sensation on his palm to tell him that he's held something precious but lost it. He'll sit up in bed, leaning against his bent knees, and wonder if maybe Blue had actually been an Alpha, if they'd scent-bonded like he'd read about in Omega studies freshman year. By morning he's rationalized himself out of such thoughts: he wears blockers, and he never got a scent from Blue, so there was nothing to create a bond with.

Even so. It's been months and he still thinks vividly of the last time he saw him, going over the encounter again and again in his mind. How he'd had the sensation of being watched, had turned in the opposite direction, had seen Blue staring at him with a rapt expression that turned to guilt when he realized he'd been spotted. Guilt because he'd been caught looking and then realized who it was with some kind of horror? Surely someone repulsed by him should have stopped haunting his dreams by now.

He can't understand it, but he's determined to overcome it, and as he finds a spot to park near the address Lisa gave him he firmly resolves to focus on someone who _does_ seem interested in him, even if they have brown eyes instead of blue. As he walks up to the house, he can hear the party going full swing inside.

_Dean: hey, outside now, where are you?_

_Lisa: come around the back, we're on the deck!_

He walks through the gate to the right of the house, through the throng of people in the backyard until he finds the steps, and it only takes a second for him to spot her by the bunny ears she's wearing. She has her back to him, so he lightly touches her waist as he comes up behind her, and as she turns she smiles at him and then tilts her head.

"You should have told me ahead of time. I have a pair of cat ears and a black leotard at home that would have gone perfectly with that outfit."

"That would have required that we playfully flirt while simultaneously trying to one up each other all night and eventually someone would've ended up in a chokehold," he says, his grin out of character with his Batman persona. "And since I know you also teach yoga in the evenings I'm not entirely sure which one of us would have been on the receiving end of that."

"Well, I guess you'll just have to wait to find out, won't you?" she answers playfully, smirking at him in return.

Dean is still on the deck chatting flirtatiously with Lisa some time later when someone comes out on the deck that he recognizes immediately.

"Sammy?" His brother turns at the sound of his name and chuckles as soon as he spots him.

"Dean! What are you doing here? Why am I not even surprised you're wearing this?"

"Hey, why would I go to the trouble of buying a new costume when I have this perfectly good one at home?" he responds, clapping him on the shoulder. He introduces Sam and Lisa, and then excuses himself to talk to his brother for a few minutes.

"I can't believe we ended up at the same party. What are the odds?" says Sam, running a hand through his hair.

"You said you were going with your friends so I figured you'd be at a frat party somewhere!"

"Oh god, no. We did that last year and I couldn't stand it. Too much alpha posturing. And vomiting. There was _so much_ vomiting. Brady was the only one of us who wanted to go back to the same party this year but he got outvoted by the rest of us. You should come and meet everybody, they're all inside somewhere," he says, moving to open the deck door and head into the house. Dean gestures to Lisa that he's going inside for a bit, and at her nod he follows Sam inside. It's a little overwhelming at first, with dozens of bodies and a ton of scents crammed into a single space, so he just follows his brother's lead, keeping close enough so that Sam's scent is the most prominent.

Suddenly another scent floods his senses, bringing him to a complete halt. He feels dizzy all of a sudden, dropping down to one knee and grabbing at Sam's wrist.

"Are you OK?" Sam says, whirling around, but Dean can barely hear him. His whole body is ablaze, his nerves a jumbled tangle of bright fire. He's dimly aware of Sam shouting something, and throwing his keys to Captain America? He's not sure what he's even seeing, but he can feel Sam pulling him towards the front door and out onto the porch, the night air caressing his burning face like a cold cloth, and as they stumble down the stairs he can hear Sam asking him where he's parked the Impala, where his keys are, and before he realizes it he's sitting in the passenger seat of his own car and Sam is speeding them towards home.

"Dean? Dean, can you hear me?" he finally makes out, and he has no idea how long Sam's been talking to him but his head clears enough for him to turn towards the driver's side and answer.

"Sam, I don't understand what's happening but...shit, I think I've gone into heat? How can that be?" Sam doesn't look at him, intent on the road and their eventual destination.

"It's okay, Dean, let's get you home and safe first and we can figure out what happened later, I promise. Just trust me," he says, and Dean nods that he does before he passes out.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean's grateful that he regains his faculties enough to strip out of his Batman costume without Sam's help once they get home, and he heads into the bathroom to take the coldest possible shower he can stand until he starts to feel functional. He's definitely in heat, but the shower tamps it down just enough that he can put on boxers and go out to the kitchen for supplies. Sam is sitting at the table typing on his laptop when Dean comes out, still in his Winter Soldier getup save the arm, which is now laying on the counter like some surreal art piece. He finishes typing something before he looks up at Dean, face full of concern made somewhat comical given his outfit.

"Can you tell me what happened yet, or do you want to wait until..."

"Until I'm finished fucking myself silly for the next three days? Ugh," he says, sitting at the table and putting his face in his hands. "Christ, I've never had one come over me like this, just out of the blue, and so strongly. It's always been when I've purposefully cycled off to give myself a break."

"Did you miss a patch or something?" Sam asks, scrolling through whatever his internet search brought up. Knowing Sam, he's already researching this particular issue and trying to find a solution. "Maybe you got one that's a dud?"

Dean considers the question, reaching around to the small of his back, just above his right buttock, where he can still feel his suppressant patch firmly in place.

"If it were a dud, it would have failed sooner than this. It's a three-month patch and I put this one on the last week of September. It wouldn't have taken that long for my body to regulate, it's never taken more than a week before. It's doubtful that I missed one. I've been using them religiously since high school and I even have reminders set up in my phone for when they need to be changed."

"Dean...could someone have drugged you? What do you remember from the party, right before you grabbed my arm?" Sam gets up from the table and grabs them each a bottle of water, and Dean smiles in gratitude as he downs half of his before he answers.

"There was something, a scent. I mean, there were a lot of scents, all those people in a confined space. I was just focusing on following you and then there was a different scent, really strong, overpowering all the others. It hit me hard, knocked me to my knees. That's when I grabbed you."

"Did you have anything to drink before you saw me, something that could have been spiked?"

"No, I actually hadn't had anything to drink at all. I'd been talking to Lisa ever since I got there, hadn't even gone inside yet."

Sam is nodding as he speaks, although he's looking at his computer screen instead of at Dean, and seems satisfied when he closes it and pushes it away, turning in his chair to face his brother directly.

"OK, so I think we can rule out some kind of weird roofie because those need to be ingested, and something couldn't have been atomized in the room without affecting more people, and it was just you."

"Lucky me," Dean says, holding the cool bottle of water to the back of his neck, knowing he won't be able to keep civilized conversation going much longer.

"I know you're not going to believe what I say next, but I need you to consider it as a possibility. Try to suspend disbelief, okay?" It takes a while for Dean to nod in agreement, but once he does Sam leans back in his chair, looking at the ceiling instead. "There's only one thing that fits all of your symptoms: being overwhelmed by a scent that drowns out all others, dizziness, blacking out, going into heat despite being on a suppressant -- they only happen in one instance."

"Enough of the buildup, Sammy, just spit it out."

Sam sits up straight, looking him right in the eyes, and Dean feels a sweat break out on the back of his neck that has nothing to do with the heat that's not going to stay at bay much longer.

"Your true mate was at that party, Dean."

He closes his eyes and tries to process his brother's words, but as soon as his lids shut he thinks instead of that scent. Despite what had happened, how it had overwhelmed him and brought him to his knees, he craved it: a scent like snow after a winter storm, crisp and bright and untainted, but with a warm note to it that was like being wrapped in blanket fresh out of the dryer. He's never been affected by the scent of an Alpha before, despite being uncomfortably close to more of them than he'd like; some have been distinctly unpleasant, but for the most part he finds himself indifferent to them altogether. They're not unappealing exactly, just not memorable. Not something that feels like home.

"Sammy," he whispers, "do you really think it could be true?" He has no idea who it was or how he'll ever find them again, but more than that he's frightened by the idea of an Alpha that has that kind of power over him. An Alpha whose scent can knock him to his knees and make him want to beg.

"Yeah, Dean. I do." Sam says, sadly, as though he can read his brother's thoughts. Dean doesn't say anything else or ask any more questions -- just quietly gets up from the table, grabs several bottles of water and a handful of power bars, then heads back into his bedroom, firmly shutting the door behind him.

∞

Dean's heat flares up to full force almost as soon as he's got his bedroom door closed behind him, and he stumbles over to his nightstand to turn on the white noise machine he sleeps with. He's never enjoyed heat, exactly, though he always wonders what it would be like to go through it with an Alpha that he trusts; he's never let his mind wander so far as to imagine that kind of a lover, a mate, to share the experience with. He knows his view of Alphas is tainted by his own narrow experience in the place where he was raised, so he thinks maybe that oversight has more to do with being afraid to hope than being afraid in general.

This time he decides to allow himself the fantasy, knowing that he may really have a true mate somewhere in the vicinity, even if he's not sure how to feel about that. It could be the Alpha of his dreams, someone funny and smart and kind who treats Dean as an equal and genuinely grows to love him; not someone cruel, someone like Alastair, an Alpha who thrives on control and fear. He'd like to think the universe could never be so cruel as to reward a person like _that_ with a true mate, but that would suggest greater forces at work that power human destiny and he definitely doesn't believe in that.

He decides to focus on the former option, to believe that his true mate really is the Alpha of his dreams. He runs his hands over his own damp skin, hot to the touch with a still unfulfilled need as he closes his eyes to pretend. He barely got a good look at anyone in the room at the party so he has no idea what this person could look like. Instead he focuses on the things he finds appealing, dark hair and sexy smiles.

He traces his own collarbone with the tip of a finger, thinking of hands, graceful hands with long fingers like a piano player. Their touch is feather light, more like breath than tactile sensation, as the pads of the fingers trace lower to circle his nipples. They stiffen slightly at the attention, perking up just enough to beg for more. The hands oblige, pressing just a little harder, grasping just enough to make themselves felt, not to pinch. They flatten against his sternum, now using the skin of their palms to caress down across the muscles of his stomach, which twitch at the sensation before they're abandoned for his hipbones. Fingertips press gently along the curved edges of bone before dipping into the crease of his thighs, stroking along the skin there and then circling along the inside. His cock is fully hard now, erect and begging for attention of its own, and the hands oblige. One of them cups his balls, gently rolling them, as the other teases along his length with just a fingertip, circling the head before grasping him completely.

He opens his legs a little wider, bending his knees and arching his hips slightly, giving the hands better access as they massage his aching erection; he needs this, he needs something, he needs to quench the desire that's pooling in the pit of his stomach. He imagines looking down and seeing the owner of the hands, seeing who's holding his pleasure at bay, and when a pair of blue eyes look back at him in his mind he cries out and finishes, coming hard in his own hands and painting streaks of semen across his stomach.

He lies there panting, grateful that Sam's bedroom is on the other side of the apartment, and when he thinks he can move he goes into the bathroom and takes a cool shower. The prickling need has receded somewhat, but he knows it's just going to get worse tomorrow, and as he stands there under the showerhead he berates himself for the face in his fantasy. He hates that he's still fixated on the guy from the cafe, especially now that he knows he has a true mate out there, a soulmate who definitely has a powerful scent and is decidedly not a barista with blue eyes. He should think of someone else, maybe think of Lisa, who he now realizes is standing around the party wondering where the fuck he went.

He groans as he leans his forehead against the tile. By tomorrow he won't be of a mindset to avoid fantasizing about Blue, too tangled up in hormones and need to make a conscious decision about it the way he has for the last two months. He resolves to just let it happen, and not feel guilty about it. When this heat is over, he'll see what he can do to figure out who his true mate is, and once he's found them he's sure that all memory of Blue will be erased from his mind forever.

He keeps that resolve firmly in his mind as he dries himself off and heads back into the bedroom, deciding to watch some Netflix on his laptop until he has to take matters into his own hands again.

∞

Sam's already standing outside his house when Castiel pulls up with his car, and he smiles as he gets out and relinquishes the driver's seat. It's not until they're both seated and he's putting on his seat belt that he catches the scent.

Something amazing. Something like new denim and hard apple cider and underneath it all a note similar to Sam's own scent, all of it magnified because...

"Oh my god. Your brother's in heat?" he blurts out before he can think. Sam looks abashed and alarmed all at once, and starts stumbling over himself to apologize.

"I'm sorry, it's why I didn't ask you to come up, I know you had a bad experience and I didn't want to upset you or anything but I didn't think you’d be able to smell it on my clothes..."

"Sam! Sam, it's okay," he interrupts, having shaken his head enough that his brains seem to have rattled back into place. "I'm not upset, it's okay. I'm just surprised." Surprised mostly because he's _not_ upset, although it's considerate of Sam to worry about triggering him. No, instead it's that the scent is actually stirring something within him, something he's never felt before, and he's a little confused by how much he wants to lean over and bury his nose in that jacket.

"Yeah, his suppressants failed somehow and he went into heat unexpectedly the night of the party," Sam replies, misunderstanding what Castiel is surprised about. "Speaking of which: you're wearing blockers again today?" There’s a curious note in his voice.

"Yes, I am. I don't think I'm ready to be... _completely_ out just yet? It was easier at the party, because I wasn't exactly me, not really. I just wanted to see how it would feel, and honestly I didn't wear them the rest of the weekend -- but I don't know if I want to advertise what I am to everyone on campus." Sam nods sagely, and Castiel closes his eyes to try and resist the urge to slide closer to Sam and ply him with a thousand questions about his brother while drinking in the scent of him. Instead he clenches his fists in his lap and gains control of himself. He's not some knot-head Alpha, going crazy at the scent of an Omega in heat. He's _not_. That's all it is. Anyone would be drawn to that.

"I get it, I really do. And I'm here for you whenever you want to talk about it, okay?"

"Thanks, Sam. That means a lot, and it's reciprocated."

"Well, I'm sorry I bailed on your first big party experience. I trust the rest of the gang took good care of you? Sorry I didn't call to catch up the next day. I was trying to just hide in my room with headphones on all weekend."

"I can imagine," Castiel replies, as he decidedly tries _not_ to imagine, because despite knowing Sam's brother isn't the Dean he wants him to be, his brain helpfully supplies that image for him since it has no other data. "Have...have his suppressants ever failed before?" he asks, hating himself for his curiosity even as he gives in to it.

"No, never. Our dad got him on patches as soon as his hormones stabilized, about three years after he presented, and he's been on them ever since. He was sixteen then and he's always been vigilant, follows the directions to the letter, has a reminder set up when it needs to be changed, and skips a patch every two years to allow his body to have a natural heat cycle just to avoid this exact thing." He parks the car in the student lot as he finishes, and Castiel mulls over what he's said as they walk across campus towards the building for their first shared class.

He tries to take advantage of being out in the open air to clear his head from that amazing smell, but he finds himself walking closer to Sam than he normally would, trailing after the scent on his jacket like a dog. He feels a prickling sensation under his skin, an odd tingling he's never felt before, and as they take their seats in the classroom he idly scratches at his arms as though they itch but it doesn't relieve the sensation.

All through class he can't seem to concentrate, feeling uncomfortable and fidgety, and he squirms in his seat so much that eventually their professor gives him a look so scathing that he uses every ounce of willpower to keep still until the end of the period, the frantic bouncing of his knee the only thing out of his control. He's overwhelmed with relief when class finally ends, and as they gather up their books and Sam swings his jacket over his arms Castile gets hit full force with that scent once again and he suddenly understands.

He's going into a rut. The scent of Sam's brother in heat has triggered his rut.

He hurriedly waves goodbye to Sam after class, ignoring his quizzical look as he moves down the hall in the opposite direction, sending a frantic text to his brother.

_Castiel: Gabe, I need a favor, I'm sorry, I know it's your day off but are you still sleeping?_

_Gabe: No, but you're interrupting my marathon of The Great British Baking Show so this better be good._

_Castiel: I think I'm going into a rut and I rode in with Sam today can you please come get me?_

_Gabe: Fuck, I'll be there as soon as I can just tell me where to get you_

_Castiel: I’ll wait on the curb outside the student center_

_Gabe: Hang in there Cassie I'm coming_

It takes Gabe twenty minutes to get to campus, and by then Castiel feels like he's vibrating under his skin. He's never had a rut, not once, though he knows his parents had hoped to force one out of him when they conspired to lock him up for a weekend with a virgin Omega in her first heat. He doesn't know why the second-hand heat scent of a strange Omega is sending him into a frenzy, but by the time Gabe pulls up to the curb where he's sitting he's terrified of what it means.

He's been rocking himself as he holds his knees to his chest, and for a second he thinks he won't be able to unlock his arms and get into the car. Just as Gabe leans over to shove the door open he manages it, and as he climbs into the passenger seat he realizes he's shaking. The car takes off before he's even gotten the door completely shut, and then he's fumbling for his seatbelt as Gabe makes the first turn towards home, his face serious and stern, his hands at ten and two on the steering wheel, not saying anything. They're halfway home before Castiel trusts himself to speak.

"Are you...are you disappointed in me?"

"What?" Gabe asks, completely taken aback. "Why on earth would you think that?"

"Because...because I can't control myself, I don't know why this is happening but I can't make it _stop_ ," and he's practically sobbing as he feels a hand rest on his shoulder.

"Cassie, you haven't done _anything_ wrong. _Nothing_. I'm just trying to focus on getting you home and thinking about what you need to get through this. I promise I'm not upset with you, or disappointed, or anything like that. I'm just surprised, that's all." He takes his hand back long enough to make a left turn and then returns it to rub soothing circles into Castiel's neck with his thumb. "There's nothing wrong with going into a rut, Cassie. It's how you handle it when you do that matters, and you did everything right, okay? You left class and called me to come get you, and then you sat and waited for me. You did good." They're pulling into the driveway at this point, and Castiel wipes at the tears of gratitude that are rolling down his cheeks.

"Gabe," he whispers as his brother comes around to help him out of the car and support him as they walk into the house. "I don't ever want to be one of _those_ Alphas."

"Cassie, our parents tried to make you into one of _those_ Alphas for a decade and it didn't happen. You don't have anything to worry about."

"Are you going to make me cocoa now?" Castiel asks weakly as he hangs his trench coat by the front door.

"You bet your goddamn ass I am. Then I'm going to go to the store and get you some lube and an...accessory. And a _shitload_ of protein bars."

∞

By Saturday morning Dean knows it's going to be the worst heat he's had since he presented -- and by that night he's abandoned all semblance of shame, applying Blue's form completely to the fantasy of his true mate. What can it hurt if no one will ever know?

By Sunday morning he's half-delirious, face down in his own bedsheets as he plows into himself with his favorite fake knot. He imagines those gorgeous hands all over his body, imagines looking into Blue's eyes while impaled on his knot, all the while enveloped by a scent like sunlight on snow and crackling thunder, and even during his respite in a bath of cool water he can't help but touch himself in every sensitive place he can reach and dream it's someone else.

Late Monday morning finds him with a slight buzz still beneath his skin, but lucid enough to shower. He wanders into the kitchen for coffee and some real food before going back to bed and passing out for several hours. He's finally woken up by Sam banging around in the kitchen that evening, and as he sits up in bed and rubs his eyes he realizes that his heat is finally over.

He puts on his favorite sweatpants and softest t-shirt before stumbling into the bathroom to brush his teeth and throw cold water on his face, and just as he finishes he hears knocking on his bedroom door.

"Dean? I brought home some burgers from that place you like if you're up for it?"

"Be right out!" he calls, walking back into his bedroom and stripping off the sheets. He'll remake the bed after he eats, but for now he grabs the dirty linens and takes them out to the laundry room off the kitchen, shoving them into the washer with a healthy amount of detergent before he finally makes his way to the table.

"How you doing?" Sam asks as he regally places a plate with a giant bacon cheeseburger and a healthy portion of crinkle cut french fries before him.

"You have _no_ idea. I haven't had one that bad since my _first_ one." He expects some kind of worried exclamation, but instead his brother nods sagely to himself as if he'd expected Dean to say that. "What? What's that look for?" he says around a mouthful of burger.

"Well, I did some more research today, but we don't have to talk about it if you're not ready." Dean just gestures impatiently for him to go on as he slathers his fries with a generous helping of ketchup. "I was afraid that I upset you on Friday when I suggested you'd met your true mate, so I checked everything I could to find another explanation, but...there isn't one."

"Yeah, well. After what happened to me these past few days I think I'd have to be a fool not to consider it. I trust you, and I've never seen research fail you." He puts his burger down and steeples his hands together over his plate, pressing his index fingers to his lips as he thinks it over. "So my true mate was at this Halloween party, but I don't know who it is, or how to find them again."

"OK, but I have a plan of action!" Sam interrupts, completely excited as he digs around in his backpack and pulls out a couple sheets of paper. "There was a Facebook invite sent out for the party, so we have a place to start! We can go through this list and rule people out, and if they brought anyone with them who’s not on the list." Dean groans at the prospect, but he can't help but be impressed at his brother's legwork. It's daunting, but at least it's a direction. "Why don't you finish eating and then we'll go through this. I actually know a lot of these people, so maybe the easiest thing to do would be to have you come to campus one day and walk around. Maybe you'll get lucky."

"In more ways than one, I hope."

"Jesus, didn't you have enough the past three days?" Sam says, rolling his eyes. Dean can't help but laugh as he claps his brother on the shoulder, and then turns somber.

"I'm not really sure what to do with this information, honestly. I don't know exactly how I feel about it."

"Which part?"

"Well," he says, putting another french fry in his mouth and chewing it slowly as he ponders his answer. "What if...what if they're terrible, Sam? What if they're mean or controlling or we just have absolutely nothing in common? I've spent most of the last ten years purposefully avoiding Alphas, so it feels odd to think about searching one out on purpose. A specific one. One who's supposedly _the_ one for me."

"Actually, I read this really interesting study earlier today that says the true mate phenomenon is mostly about chemical compatibility," Sam says excitedly, "so it's not actually _one_ single person for you, but one of a very limited pool of individuals that are more than 99% compatible. Since that would be such a small group spread over the entire world the odds of you meeting one are just so small that it seems like..." he trails off, blinking at his brother who has completely stopped chewing and is staring at him with wide eyes.

"Do you have to science the romance out of _everything?_ Jesus!" Sam just shrugs and resumes eating.

"It depends on your viewpoint, I guess. If you're a romantic then you can subscribe to that theory, but if you're a more practical individual you can take comfort in the science of it all and marvel at having found one of those rare people. You've always straddled both sides, so I thought you'd like to have all the information at your disposal."

Dean sits back in his chair with a thud. Sam's not wrong, actually, and he's strangely comforted by the scientific aspect of it all to tamper down the star-crossed lovers side of the argument. Damn. He'll never get used to how well Sam observes and understands the people around him, because he does it so quietly, and keeps his assessments to himself unless he needs to make a point about something.

"You're right," he concedes, continuing after Sam nods. "I'm also a little worried about what this person will think of me when we find them. I mean, chemicals aside, what if I don't actually _like_ them when I meet them, or vice versa? What if they have terrible taste in clothes or music, or they're a finance major, which is the most boring subject I can think of? What if they drive a _terrible car_ , Sam?"

"First of all, you're a little too focused on what they'll be like on the outside, instead of the inside. Second, I've never known you to be dismissive of anyone without an actual reason. Maybe they'll major in finance, so what? Maybe they'll be so passionate about it that you'll love that aspect of them. Maybe they'll have a terrible car, but they're attached to it in the same way you're attached to your Impala, and you'll change your mind when you hear their story." Sam balls up his dirty napkin and throws it onto his empty plate, getting up from the table and tossing them into the trash. "Let's resolve to find them, meet them, and get to know them _before_ you decide they're all wrong for you. Deal?"

Dean narrows his eyes and stares at Sam, who crosses his arms and looks defiantly back until Dean breaks, letting out a sigh as he finishes his last french fry.

"Deal."

"Good. Now I don't have to keep you from the pie."

"I can't believe you were going to withhold _pie_ until I conceded, you're a monster!"

Sam laughs as he cuts a slice of pie for each of them, sitting back down at the table and sliding Dean's slice over to him.

"This is a new pie Castiel’s brother is trying out in his cafe. We went there after class today instead of our usual place, so I picked this up while I was there.”

"Hey, if he needs a regular pie taster you make sure to give him my number," Dean says, as he cuts off a piece and forks it into his mouth. He closes his eyes as he savors it, chewing slowly and tipping his head back with a moan. "Damn, Sam. What _is_ this heavenly concoction?"

"Uh, marionberry? I'm not entirely sure what it is, some kind of hybrid. He sells a lot of handheld pastries right now like scones and croissants and cookies, but he wants to try and introduce some other baked goods for the evening crowds. He was baking one of these Friday night when I picked Castiel up to go the party."

"Jesus. This is good stuff. You have to tell him I heartily approve."

"You really should check the place out. It's right across from Bobby's store, I think I mentioned it before?"

Dean knows, of course he knows, exactly which place Sam is talking about. He knows that since Blue no longer works there he should be free to go back whenever he wants; the place did have good food and great coffee, after all. It's just that the appeal is gone along with the eye candy, and he can't even seem to think about said eye candy without feeling a wave of guilt. Guilt that now visits itself on him anew as he thinks about all the different ways he used Blue's image for his own ends over the last three days.

He finishes his pie in silence, despite the quizzical look Sam gives him, putting his plate into the trash can before going to put the sheets into the dryer. As he takes a clean set from the linen closet and remakes his bed, he resolves to put Blue completely from his mind from now on. The poor guy wasn’t interested in Dean but never let on, whether from politeness or good customer service he's not sure. He obviously never meant to be overheard saying how he really felt out loud, and definitely didn't deserve to have his own words thrown in his face, and since Dean will never have the opportunity to apologize to him the least he can do is not disrespect the guy anymore. He shudders to think about how he must have starred in the fantasies of a certain high school principal for months before he was propositioned, and knows he never wants to be that person.

Bed freshly made, he sits on the edge and takes his phone off the charger on his nightstand.

_D: hey, are you free to talk for a bit?_

_Queen C: I can be in 20, everything OK?_

_D: yeah, more or less. Somethings happened and it's too involved to text about._

_Queen C: sure thing, Solo. Call you soon._

∞

Castiel tries not to be freaked out as he goes through his first rut, but it's an altogether frightening experience for him. After Gabe makes him a frothy mug of hot cocoa chock full of marshmallows, he bundles him up in a blanket on the couch and runs back out to the store. The familiar scents of home help to keep him calm despite the itch under his skin, and he's just getting to the bottom of his mug of liquid comfort when Gabe gets back.

"Do you want me to explain what's in the bag, or just hand it to you and walk away?" he says, but all Castiel has to do is give him a look and Gabe hands it over, takes his empty mug, and disappears into the kitchen.

He heads upstairs, clutching the plastic bag to his chest as he trudges down the hall to his bedroom, then setting it on his desk as he gets inside. He takes the time to strip down to his boxer briefs and his clothes feel strangely rough against his skin, almost like they're chafing, so he's relieved to be rid of them. He grabs the bag and goes to lay down in bed, slipping into the cool sheets with a soft sigh and nestling into them as he drifts off to sleep.

He doesn't know how long he's been dozing when he comes to again, but it's still light outside so he doesn't bother to look at the clock. The buzz under his skin is electric now, and along with that discomfort he finds that he's completely hard and sporting the beginning of a knot. He groans, reaching into his underwear to fist his hard length, his hand dry and rough but a comfort nonetheless. He decides to inspect the contents of Gabe’s goody bag, because he's certain there are things in there to help his situation even if he's embarrassed to think about it.

There's an entire box of peanut butter flavored protein bars, a huge purple Gatorade, a large bottle of Astroglide, and a weird package that looks like a six pack of eggs with the brand name Tenga. They seem weird, but he has a feeling Gabe knew what he was doing when he bought these.

He takes one out, inspecting it and reading the directions, looking at the little single package of lube that comes with it, and shrugs. Worth a shot. Shucking his boxers, he throws back the covers and gets comfortable, tearing open the packet and squeezing out the lube into the little rubber egg.

It takes two minutes for him to realize that his brother is the greatest living being in the entirety of the known universe before he firmly decides to forget he has a brother for the time being, and loses himself in the sensation afforded by his new accessory. Castiel has never had sex before, never even been naked with another person in the throes of passion, so he has no idea if this is anything like the real thing. Even so, the grip and tug of the Tenga egg has him crying out from the stimulation, and his head thrashes against the pillow, eyes closed against the pleasure he feels. His knot is expanding, and he can feel that sensation in the pit of his belly that means he's close, and he thinks about the lovely scent that invaded his nostrils to set this off as he comes with a shout, spilling into the egg as he massages his stiff knot with his other hand.

He's breathing hard, head turned sideways on the pillow, limbs heavy and mind clear for the moment. He feels slightly ashamed to be masturbating to the scent of an Omega he doesn't know, and the brother of his best friend to boot. It feels...rude, somehow. He doesn't even know what Dean looks like, probably a small, more delicate version of Sam; he's probably the poster child for Omega perfection, the perfect opposite Sam’s Alpha. Poor Dean didn't ask to have strangers jerking off to his scent, but here Castiel is, without a face to put to the name.

There's another face he associates with that name, though, and by the time he’s cleaned himself up it's that face that's occupying his thoughts. He slips back under the covers, completely nude now, and drifts off to dreams of green eyes and freckles.

He spends the rest of that day and the next painting the inside of every Tenga egg multiple times with fantasies of _that_ Dean, only smelling like denim and cider and a hint of vanilla. He wakes up late Wednesday morning, body sore and skin rubbed raw in places but he knows his rut is finally over and he sighs in relief. He drags himself into the shower, tenderly running soapy hands over his skin and washing his hair, turning his face up to the spray. He dries himself off gingerly after he gets out, rummaging through his drawers for the most comfortable clothing he can find, finally settling on the pajama pants and old t-shirt that Gabe gave to him the first night he showed up.

He wanders downstairs because he's starving and wants to eat anything that isn't a power bar, finally settling on the sugary cereal that Gabe loves and pouring himself a huge bowl. As he takes a seat he spies his phone charging on the counter and realizes that Gabe must have plugged it in for him after he texted Sam on Monday. He'd forgotten all about it during the last two days, so he reaches over to grab it.

There's a message each from Sarah, Jess and Brady, all from sometime Monday night, all of them telling him to feel better. He still can't get used to the idea that there are people in his life besides Gabriel who think about him; it didn't even occur to him that he hadn't looked at his phone for two days, much less that he had missed messages.

He has more messages from Sam, and he scrolls back to his last text so he can start from the oldest one, sent soon after he said Gabe was coming to pick him up.

_Castiel: I'm not feeling well and I had Gabe come pick me up. I'll text you tomorrow._

_Sam: It's okay, man, just feel better._

And then much later the same night.

_Sam: Listen, I'm really sorry I was so thoughtless._

_Sam: I know you have a...bad history with Omegas in heat and I thought I was protecting you from that by having you stay in the car but I didn't think about how my clothes would smell and I really feel like shit because I'm worried that you're really upset with me._

_Sam: I feel like a bad friend._

Shit. It didn't even occur to him that this would be Sam's thought process, and Castiel's failure to answer obviously didn't help judging by the text Sam sent last night.

_Sam: I understand if you need space but I just want to tell you one more time that I feel terrible._

_Sam: I hope you'll let me make it up to you._

He doesn't hesitate as he dials, knowing that Sam doesn't have any classes on Wednesday. He realizes too late that he should probably text since Sam is likely in the library and can't answer the phone, but suddenly it stops ringing and he hears Sam on the other end, breathless like he's just run up a flight of stairs.

"Hey!"

"Sam, are you alright?"

"Yeah! Of course!" Sam says, but Castiel can tell he's trying to catch his breath, and he's not sure how to proceed.

"I, um, I thought you'd be in the library and I'd get your voicemail, sorry."

"Oh, I am! I mean, I was. As soon as I saw who was calling I ran outside. I'm out on the steps. Did you…would you rather talk to my voicemail?” he asks defeatedly.

"No! I'm so sorry, Sam. I finally read all your texts just now and I felt terrible. I'm not mad at you, Sam, not at all! You didn't upset me."

"You can tell me if I did, I swear. I've been kicking myself for two days thinking that I triggered you or something."

"No!" he replies quickly, even though something certainly _was_ triggered, but he'll be damned if he’ll admit that to Sam, who will just feel worse. "I've had some kind of stomach bug. Gabe put me to bed when I got home Monday and I didn't get out of it again until this morning." It's not entirely a lie, so he doesn't feel guilty telling it.

"Oh, shit. I thought...geez. You must think I'm a complete _moron_." Castiel laughs, startled into it by Sam's self-deprecating tone, and after a minute he can hear Sam chuckling on the other end. "I'm glad you're feeling better, then. Let's just pretend I never sent _any_ panic-induced texts where I read too much into a situation, okay?"

"Agreed, I haven't heard from you since Monday afternoon actually. I was beginning to worry, Sam," he retorts dryly, and just like that they're back to normal.

"Hey, if you're up for it I can meet you over at your brother's cafe later tonight and fill you in on what you missed in Moseley's class Monday afternoon? I took copious notes in your absence."

"That sounds great, Sam. I'd love to get out of the house, finally."

"Six sound cool?"

"Yes. Thank you, Sam," he says as he hangs up. He means more than just meeting him later for class notes, but he thinks Sam understands that without being told. He puts his empty bowl in the sink when he's done, then trudges upstairs to strip his bed and put fresh sheets on. He eyes the dirty pile for a minute, wondering if he should just burn them in the backyard, but eventually he rules that out and trudges back downstairs to the laundry room.

He still feels exhausted, so he spends a good part of the day napping on the couch while pretending he's watching TV, finally sending Gabe a text to tell him that he's feeling better and that he and Sam will be there in a little while.

When Castiel arrives he goes behind the counter to make coffees for himself and for Sam, he and Gabe dancing around each other as they both use the espresso machine while Krissy rings up customers. He grabs an empty table by the window so that Sam will see him as he comes up to the door, and sips his drink as he waits.

Sam's only a few minutes late and Castiel sees him walk past before he enters, backpack slung over his right shoulder, waving to Gabe as he comes in before heading over to the table. Gabe gives him a thumbs up even as he continues at his task, and after the line dissipates twenty minutes later he comes out from behind the counter to where they're going through Sam's notes from Monday afternoon's class.

"If I'd known you were just gonna nerd the place up I'd never have invited you in here," he teases Sam as he ruffles Castiel's hair. "What brings you guys over this way?"

"Well, we were here Monday night actually, but you were off that day. I brought home that marionberry pie, though, and it was a huge hit with Dean, so I convinced him to come here after work today and try some more." Castiel freezes completely. Sam's brother. Sam's brother is coming _here_. Fuck. Obviously he's over his heat, but Castiel doesn't know how he's going to look him in the face after he spent two days in a rut triggered by the guy's scent, masturbating furiously to the memory of it while fantasizing about someone else. He thinks he's going to die from shame where he sits, but his brother and Sam are completely oblivious to his distress.

"What've you got today?" Sam asks, peering at the chalkboard behind the counter. "Oh shit. Dean's gonna die."

"He can't do that! It'd be a waste of salted caramel pecan pie if he dropped dead in the middle of eating it!" Sam laughs, shaking his head.

"Knowing Dean he'd make sure to eat the entire piece and lick the plate before he croaked."

They're both laughing now, but soon Gabe wanders off to the kitchen as Sam checks the time on his phone.

"He should be getting here pretty soon, I think. Do you mind if we wait for him to order food or are you hungry now?" Sam look at him, concern and confusion etched on his face. "Castiel? Are you feeling sick again?"

He shakes himself out of his stupor. Focus. Sam asked a question.

"It's fine, I, uh, I can wait. What school is he teaching at today?" he asks idly, pretending to study Sam's notes.

"Oh, it's not a teaching day. I don't think he has any assignments this week, so he's working at his other job just across the street." Castiel turns to stare out the window for a second, the enormous front facade of Singer's Sporting Goods the most prominent business on the other side of the lane.

"You mean he works at..."

"Oh, did I never mention that? Sorry, he also works at Singer's! We both do, actually, or I do when I'm not in school. My uncle Bobby that I mentioned before, the one who owns the apartment we live in? He's Bobby Singer."

Castiel can feel the blood draining from his face as he puts all the pieces together. Sam's brother Dean is _the_ Dean. The Dean he spent all summer drooling over. The Dean he just spent two days fantasizing about as he pleasured himself over and over during his very first rut, which also happened to be unknowingly triggered by Dean's own scent. The Dean who hates him because he overheard something he shouldn't have. And he's coming _here_.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean has his drawer counted and back in the safe in record time, and as he heads into the office to grab his keys out of the desk he finds himself whistling.

"Knock that off, ya idjit," Bobby grumbles at him from where he's sitting hunched over some paperwork, rubbing his temples as he reads. Dean just laughs, knowing Bobby's gruff demeanor is just a front for the bottomless well of affection he has for all his employees, especially Sam and Dean. "What’s got you in such a chipper mood, anyway?"

It startles him for a second, because he actually does feel like he's in a good mood, though he hadn't really taken note of it himself.

"I'm not entirely sure, actually? Heading across the street to meet up with Sam, looking forward to a nice piece of pie. You know me, that'll do it every time." Bobby huffs in agreement, and since that's generally the amount of conversation he has with everybody Dean grabs his things and heads towards the front. He walks out to the street, flipping his car keys around and around his index finger, idly looking both ways before he crosses and then directly into the window of the cafe itself, where he can see his brother sitting with...Blue?

Blue stares at him through the window, mouth agape like he's just seen a ghost, and it brings Dean up short. He’s sitting at the table with Sam, who looks like he's asking him a question as he looks at some papers in front of him, oblivious to the distress of the poor guy who spent an entire summer politely dealing with Dean's ogling and then got his head bitten off in a public place for his trouble.

Dean stares back for a moment, considering. His first thought is to bail, just turn right and head up the alley to his car and leave. He can apologize to Sam later, tell him he didn't feel well or something, then demur any time he suggest meeting any of his friends again.

He breaks eye contact and looks down at his feet, shuffling the tip of his boot on the sidewalk and biting his lip as he considers how guilty he'd felt the last couple of months. How he'd gone back to the cafe hoping for a chance to apologize, and felt worse to learn Blue was gone and he wouldn't have a chance. That decides him. Checking for traffic again, he crosses the street with his eyes firmly fixed to the door, taking a deep breath as he heads inside and over to his brother.

"Dean! Sorry, I didn't hear you come in, man! Here, sit down," he says, sliding over in the booth to make room. "I want you to meet my friend. This is Castiel."

"Castiel?" he hears himself, echoing his brother. Blue shifts uncomfortably, fidgeting with his hands as he nods slightly, but before Dean can say anything else he hears a shout.

"HANDSOME ASS!" Gabe squeals as he comes around the counter and heads over to their table, shoving Castiel by the shoulder until he moves over enough for him to sit down. "As I live and breathe, we never thought we'd see you again! Holy shit, Sam, is this your brother?" Gabe is practically bouncing up and down in the booth with excitement, Castiel looks like he's going to vomit, Sam is giggling to himself and Dean just feels extraordinarily confused.

"Yeah, this is Dean. Dean, this is Gabe, Castiel's brother and the owner of this fine establishment."

"Aw, Sam, you managed to say 'fine establishment' with a straight face, I'm so honored!"

"Good, then tell me again what that was that you called my brother?"

"Oh, Handsome Ass? Sorry, it's just that I never knew his name before so I had to call him _something_."

"Before? Before what?"

"Excuse me," Castiel says, shoving Gabe out of the booth so he can slide out. He makes a beeline for the kitchen and disappears, the door swinging back and forth violently in his wake, the three men at the table staring after him dumbfounded. Gabe seems chastised as he slowly sinks back down into the seat, turning to face the brothers with a sheepish smile on his face.

"Well, I'm definitely going to have to apologize to him later." Dean shakes his head to clear it, but before he can find his voice again Sam pipes up.

"I'm confused. How do you know Dean? Why is Castiel pissed? What's going on that I don't know about?" Gabe sighs, running his hands over his face before staring towards the kitchen, where the door is still wavering on its hinges, ever so slightly.

"Well, I'm already on his shit-list, so I might as well fess up completely. Cassie was crushing on ol' Dean-o here big time all summer, but you know how he is, Sam. He would never start a conversation, or ask his name, or flirt. Just a lot of soulful staring from afar, you know?"

"Sorry...Cassie?" Dean can't believe out of the million questions he has right now that this is the one that makes it to the tip of his tongue and off his lips, but Gabe isn't even the one who answers him.

"Yeah, Gabe's the only one who calls him that, and he hates it..."

"Which is why I keep doing it..."

"But the point is...you used to come in here? You never told me that! I must've mentioned this place half a dozen times and you never said anything!" Dean fidgets in his seat, unsure of how to reply, but Sam doesn't wait for an answer. "Wait, why'd you _stop_ coming if you used to come all the time?"

"We just figured after you left Singer's it wasn't close enough for you to come in anymore. Cassie was real upset when he thought he'd never see you again, Handsome Ass." Dean glares, but Gabe just grins at him.

"Well that doesn't explain why he's now hiding in the _back_ , Gabe, and please stop calling my brother that, it's gross."

"Yeah, well, that's my fault because I was always teasing him about his crush and threatening to do something about it and he would get upset with me. So I'm sure he's not pleased that I just outed him to Dean's face after I promised him I wouldn't. But hey," he said, fixing his gaze on Dean, "I blame _you_ for that because you never came back after I made that promise, and so I forgot! Poor Cassie, he was so dejected when he went over to Singer's and found out you left."

"What do you mean, left? Who said he left?" asks Sam.

There's an enormous amount of confusion at the table, and Dean's sure he can probably shed light on some of it if he can just find his voice, but he's too busy trying to process his own tangled thoughts in the light of everything Gabe said. "Okay, stop, both of you. Just stop," he finally says, firmly, and oddly enough they both do. "Let me see if I can figure out what the hell is going on. Gabe, who told you I wasn't working at Singer's anymore?" he asks, though he's sure he knows the answer already.

"Cassie did. He went over there one night after close when we hadn't seen you for a couple of weeks." Gabe's looking at him carefully now, as if he's considering something. "But you never did quit, did you? So he either didn't see you at all and made an assumption, or..." and Dean's dreading this but he confesses anyway.

"Or...I saw him in the store and told him off because of something I'd overheard one day. A reference to a specific _stupid sporting goods guy_. Which was the real reason I stopped coming into the shop."

Gabe's face turns white.

"Shit."

"Yeah," Dean says, "imagine how it felt to come into the shop and find it blessedly empty on the day you've finally decided you're going to ask your crush out on a date, only to overhear him loudly telling his co-worker how much he's not interested in you."

"Fuck. He's always told me I needed to buy a goddamn bell or something. He didn’t mean it, he was just trying to throw me off the scent."

"What the hell, guys?" asks Sam,

"You explain it to him. I'm going to go find him and apologize like I've wanted to for months now," Dean says, getting up from the table. He nods at the girl at the register as he comes behind the counter uninvited, but Gabe must signal that it's okay because she cuts off her protest as soon as she glances in his direction. Dean pushes his way into the kitchen, determined to clear the air here, and...

Nothing. Blue, Castiel, whatever his name is does not seem to be occupying space in the kitchen any longer. There's a small office at the back with an open door, but he's not in there either. It's not hard to deduce that he went through the outside door to the back alley, where deliveries are made, but pushing it open and ducking his head outside proves to Dean what he already knows.

He heads back out to the table where Sam and Gabe abruptly stop talking, and sits down heavily next to his brother.

"He's gone. Took off out the back," he says, putting his elbows on the table and banging his forehead on his crossed arms a couple of times before looking up at Gabe. "Are you sure he doesn't find me repulsive? Why else would he leave?" Gabe sighs, running his hand through his hair in exasperation.

"I'm sure. He's been through some rough stuff, growing up with our folks, you know? Sam can probably fill you in on a lot of it later, since he seems to be the only other person Cassie's ever trusted enough to talk to." Dean can see Sam nodding in agreement out of the corner of his eye. "But he didn't really learn a lot of social skills, and I'd wager that until he set eyes on you he'd never actually been attracted to another person, so he didn't know what to do with it. We're completely opposite in that regard," and he wiggles his eyebrows for emphasis. “He was terrified that I would say something to you myself, so he tried to convince me he wasn't interested. I promised I wouldn't give him away when you came in, but obviously I messed that up completely. He's probably halfway home by now, where he'll proceed to lock himself in his room for a week and do his best to die of shame."

"Shit. I saw him the night he came in. Did not react well. Kind of threw what I'd heard back in his face and stormed off, but felt like shit about it later. I came in after a few weeks, when I'd worked up the nerve to apologize, but the girl working that night said he didn't work here anymore."

"Shit," Sam said, shaking his head in disbelief and elbowing Dean in the ribs. "Why didn't you tell me you were crushing on someone over the summer?"

"Uh..."

"Yeah, this one's just as stupid as _your_ brother," Sam says to Gabe, gesturing at Dean with his thumb. "Probably spent weeks second-guessing himself and as a result never made a move, either."

"Well, it's all fine now!" Gabe says with a smile, "the star-crossed lovers are reunited, kind of? They can kiss and make up and Cassie can ride Dean-o here off into the sunset!" Dean and Sam exchange a look, and the smile slides off Gabe's face. "What?"

Dean sputters in reply, but Sam cuts him off with a hand on his arm.

"Some things have happened with Dean this last week that would make that...ill-advised." Gabe just crosses his arms, waiting. "Do you believe in true mates, Gabe?"

"Of course! I'm a romantic at heart!"

"Dean met his over the weekend," and the look on Gabe's face means he knows exactly what that means for his own brother.

"Shit. Poor Cassie."

∞

_Unknown: Hey Cas?_

_Unknown: Sorry, I mean Castiel._

_Unknown: Although that's kind of a mouthful, so is it OK if I call you Cas?_

_Unknown: Christ, that sounds awful. I'm sorry. I'm not trying to be a creep, I swear._

_Unknown: Oh, um, it's Dean. Sam's brother?_

_Unknown: You probably figured that out._

_Unknown: OK, I know you probably don't want to answer and I understand. So I'm just gonna get this off my chest._

_Unknown: I'm really sorry for the way I acted when you came into Singer's that night. I'd obviously overheard you and Gabe one day in the cafe and I made a lot of assumptions._

_Unknown: Gabe told me I was wrong about those, and so I apologize. I thought we had a connection and when I overheard you guys I decided I'd read everything wrong._

_Unknown: I was more angry at myself than at you. It's probably too complicated to explain over text._

_Unknown: I'm not in a position right now to act on whatever there was between us, but I wanted you to know that you weren't alone in that._

_Unknown: I'm sorry if I upset you in any way._

_Unknown: I also apologize for this stalker-like string of text messages, but I really wanted to clear the air because Sam thinks of you as his best friend and I don't want to do anything to ruin that. So whatever you need to still be cool with him I'll do. I'd like it if we could all be friends, but I'll understand if you just want me to go away, or make myself scarce if you're coming over or whatever._

_Unknown: I really am sorry. I wish things had been different. I'll leave you alone now._

He smacks his fist lightly against his head several times after sending that last text, because what if they _had_ been different?

"Dean?" Sam says, knocking lightly on the door. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, Sammy. You can come in," he says, but Sam only opens the door just enough to poke his head in.

"Did you...did you text him?"

"Yeah. No answer. I don't know if I made it worse or if he's just taking it all in. Either way, I said what I need to. I really hope this doesn't affect your friendship, Sam."

"I doubt it. He's a great guy, Dean. He just needs time to process. He can't avoid me anyway, we have a class together tomorrow." Dean chuckles lowly, but doesn't say anything else, and Sam edges into the room a bit more, leaning against the door jamb. "Why didn't you ever tell me you were mooning over a guy all summer?" He says it hesitantly, as if he's afraid he has no right to ask, and Dean sighs, moving to sit on the edge of the bed, picking at a loose thread on the knee of his jeans.

"It's stupid," he says, staring off into the distance instead of looking at Sam. "I kind of wanted to keep it to myself so that I didn't jinx it, you know? It had been a long time since I'd looked at anybody that way. Maybe never? I mean, I've been attracted to people, hooked up with them, always managed to charm my way into a date if I wanted it."

Sam chuckles a bit, because he remembers vividly wishing he had just a thimbleful of his brother's swagger and charm when he was younger and trying to impress girls. "Something about him, though. Every time I saw him I would stand in line thinking about what I was gonna say this time when I got to the front, which line I was gonna use, you know? And every time he looked at me I completely forgot everything I wanted to say. That had never happened before."

Sam looks at him carefully, nodding almost to himself before coming over and sitting next to Dean on the bed.

"He's not like everybody else, I can tell you that. He's special."

"Yeah. I don't know exactly how, but I know."

"Do you think," Sam starts, but then he pauses, biting his lip and wondering if he should go on.

"Do I think what?"

"Do you think...things would have ended up the same if this hadn't gotten all messed up?" Dean has a feeling that's not what he was originally going to say, but he shakes it off. What if he'd actually succeeded in getting Cas to go out with him, and they'd hit it off and been dating for a few months and been really happy? So happy that they decided to go to the Halloween party with Sam, together. What then? How would his boyfriend have reacted when he scented his true mate for the first time -- and it wasn't him? Because as much as he wants Castiel, as much as he's still drawn in by his blue eyes and strong jaw, he can't deny his reaction to the scent of his true mate. He doesn't think even Cas can compete with that, and so he would have been hurt anyway -- only much, much worse than he has been. So maybe everything did work out for the best in the end, but the thought of it makes him sick to his stomach.

"I guess it doesn't matter now, Sam. It's probably for the best that we never worked it out." He can hear the gears turning in Sam's mind, as if he's trying to come up to a solution that gives everybody involved what they want, but Dean knows there's nothing to be done. Sam claps him on the shoulder, getting off the bed and leaving the room without another word.

As Sam quietly shuts the door behind him, Dean throws himself back onto his bed, an arm over his eyes as he struggles with how to make the best of this situation. He decides he needs to text Charlie and get her take on things when he hears his phone vibrate on nightstand.

He grabs it, full of hope and dread as he looks at the message.

_Cas: Hello, Dean._

∞

Castiel pushes past Gabe and barrels into the kitchen right before he descends into full-blown panic. He feels like a hundred different horrors are converging on him all at the same time: Sam's brother is the Dean he's been pining after for months, Gabe forgot his promise and ran his mouth, and Dean’s proximity to Castiel was almost overwhelming even though he was obviously wearing blockers.

Castiel sits at the desk in the tiny office for a minute, his face in his hands, trying to catch his breath, but it's too small and cramped and he needs to get out. He needs to get outside, get away from the building, maybe go home and withdraw from school and go someplace entirely new where no one knows him and he can live like a hermit, eating berries in the woods. In a loincloth. Never interacting with people, ever.

He shoves open the back door to the street and turns down the back alley where all the deliveries come in, heading to the opening that will take him out to the main street. There he can sneak across to the other alley that leads to the parking lot behind Singer's. He doesn't look behind him as he practically runs across the street, only sparing a single glance back as he reaches the alley. He can see Gabe and Sam in the booth now, arguing. He worries for a minute that he'll encounter Dean in the lot going back to his own car, but decides to just head for his without looking up and hope he gets lucky.

He's behind the wheel and locking the doors behind him before he risks a glance at the parking lot, which is blessedly free of people. He sits there for a minute trying to calm his pounding heart, having deja vu of a moment like this two months ago before he wipes his eyes and starts the car. He feels numb as he makes the drive home, realizing somewhat belatedly that he left his backpack and all of his things at the table but not caring. Something tells him that Sam will have everything with him at their first class tomorrow, and will just hand it over without comment, waiting until lunchtime to ask Castiel if he wants to talk and being non-judgemental if he doesn't. He knows this intrinsically about Sam, that even though the problem revolves around his own brother he'll neither push nor presume.

He gets home in one piece, trudging up the stairs to his bedroom and shutting himself in without even bothering to turn on the lights. The early November dark of the evening wraps itself around him as he toes off his shoes and shrugs off his jacket, letting it slide off his arms onto the floor as he makes his way to the bed, lying facedown on top of the covers and curling his arms around his pillow.

He doesn't realize he's drifted off until he's woken by his text message alert pinging over and over again from the pocket of his jacket, still on the floor just inside the bedroom door. Castiel sits up, rubbing his eyes in the impenetrable darkness of his bedroom as his stomach reminds him that he never actually ate dinner. He leans over to turn on his bedside lamp so he can change back into his sleep pants and t-shirt, leaving his jacket on the floor and his phone unanswered as he heads back downstairs. He's got his head in the fridge when he hears the front door open and the sound of Gabriel's keys striking the surface of the ceramic bowl just inside, his shuffling footsteps as he makes his own way into the kitchen. Gabe doesn't speak but Castiel hears him sit down heavily in one of the seats at the counter, so he continues moving things around until he starts to get cold and then finally stands up, shuts the door, and turns to face his brother.

He doesn't make eye contact with him as he sets his sandwich paraphernalia on the island, turning his back briefly once more to grab a paper plate from the top of the fridge. He puts two slices of bread side by side carefully before he finally raises his eyes to his Gabe's. He thinks the look on his face is one of contrition, but he's not entirely sure because it's not a look he wears often.

"I overstepped in my excitement and embarrassed you, exactly like you were afraid I would," Gabe says softly, never breaking eye contact. "I can say I'm sorry, but I can't take it back. I hope you'll forgive me."

Castiel breaks first, looking down at his bread, two empty slices just laying there not holding any answers. He nods his head a little, then starts building his sandwich in careful layers.

"Listen, kiddo. Dean's a nice guy. He told me what really happened when you went in to Singer’s, and he’s sorry. I spent some time talking to him and Sam, got everything cleared up, but...there's something I need to tell you and I don't want you to be disappointed." Gabe fidgets in his seat, avoiding Castiel's gaze, before he finally swallows and blurts out what he has to say. "Dean met his true mate over the weekend. So, uh, he's apparently off the market."

All of Castiel’s extremities go cold and his face flushes red with shame. He feels like the worst specimen of Alpha to ever exist. He’s spent the last two days fantasizing about a man he doesn’t know, drunk on his heat scent, a heat brought on because Dean met his true mate. Someone definitely _not_ Castiel.

He is a terrible, disrespectful Alpha.

He hears Gabe sigh as he places everything back in the fridge, and he takes a big bite so he doesn't have to talk anymore. He never told Gabe what he thought triggered his rut, and now he never will.

"Listen, Cassie, I know this sucks for you. I know it. I'd fix it if I could." He waits, watching his brother chew carefully and swallow, but doesn't say anything else. They both know everything Gabe has done to try and fix all the broken parts of his Castiel's life. "Sam's worried that you'll avoid him now."

"I can't do that when we have four classes together every week." He sighs, finishing his sandwich as Gabe sits, idly making circles on the countertop with the tip of his finger. He can't deny that the temptation to avoid everyone and everything is still very strong, but there's something else warring with those feelings that's even greater. It's the sense of belonging he gets when he thinks about his life now, the friends he has in it. "What should I do, Gabe?"

"Don't be mad at me, but...I gave Dean your number." He puts his hands up as Castiel's eyes widen. "Sam would have given it to him anyway, but he thought it would be better if he had my blessing. I thought that said a lot."

"But why?"

"He just wants to be friends. He feels bad that he never took a chance on you when he could, and he's worried that you'll hate him now that it's too late. He doesn't want Sam's best friend to be uncomfortable around him, and he wanted to try and apologize." Castiel thinks about his phone, lying upstairs on his bedroom floor letting off a string of notifications, and nods.

"I'll talk to him," he says, putting his paper plate into the trash can and wiping crumbs off the counter. "I'll be okay, Gabe."

"I know you will, kiddo. I just wish I could have handed Handsome Ass to you on a silver platter, you know?" He grins, and Castiel can't help but chuckle as he makes his way back up the stairs to his bedroom.

He digs his now silent phone out of his jacket pocket and sits at his desk, staring at it in grim trepidation before finally unlocking it. He sees a text from Sam, a plea to call him, and just asks if they can talk tomorrow at lunch instead, receiving a thumbs up emoji almost instantly. He opens the other string of messages from an unknown number, though he's certain of who they’re from even before he reads them. He can't help but smile to himself because Dean's sincerity is somewhat endearing, but he squashes those thoughts as he finally replies.

_Castiel: Hello, Dean._

_Castiel: Thank you for your messages. I think it would be a good idea if we could meet up and talk, sans brothers._

_Dean: Yes! I mean, thank you for replying, but I'd really like the chance to talk to you in person. Just tell me where._

_Castiel: Not at Gabe's place. He hovers, and it's distracting.._

_Castiel: There's another coffee shop by campus that Sam and I go to a lot, could you meet me there one night this week?_

_Dean: Yeah. Does Friday work? I'll be done work at 2, so anytime after that should be fine._

_Castiel: I can be there at 4?_

_Dean: I'll be there. And thank you, Cas._

_Castiel: Of course._

∞

Dean is sitting in an armchair in the back corner of the coffee shop, unwittingly in the same area that Sam usually haunts with his friends. He's nervous and worried, opting to get his coffee in an actual mug so he can cradle it in his hands, letting the warmth seep through the ceramic into his palms. He arrived a few minutes early and he's glad to be the first one there, because he wants Cas to be able to change his mind if he needs to, if he still feels awkward or unsure about this. He’s determined not to look at the door every time he hears the bells, but it’s difficult. He’s relieved when denim clad calves and a pair of canvas shoes finally come into his line of sight, and he looks up into a pair of fathomless blue eyes.

"Hello, Dean."

"Hey," he says, smiling self-consciously as the new arrival takes the armchair to his left. The coffee shop is fairly empty at the moment but even so he finds himself talking softly, as he would with a skittish animal. "Thanks for coming to meet me, Cas. Sorry! I mean Castiel," he corrects as his companion tilts his head, giving him an odd look. "I'm sorry, I have a tendency to resort to nicknames. It's stupid, I know."

"No! No, it's not stupid, actually. I...kind of like it? I mean, no one ever used it before."

"You're joking. You're what, twenty years old and no one's ever shortened your given name before?"

"Well, our parents only ever addressed me as Castiel," he says, "and in school people referred to each other by last name. Some stupid type of status thing. I never understood it." He fidgets a bit, fingers tangling together in his lap as he smiles shyly. "I like Cas. Way better than Cassie."

"Well, I promise never to call you that...Cas," he ventures, and is rewarded with a toothy smile so brilliant that it stops his heart for a second. For months he'd wondered how to get him to smile like that, a real smile, and it looks like all he needed to do was call him by name. He silently curses himself for missed opportunities, and resolves to make the best of this situation and be happy with it.

Cas is Sam's best friend, and Dean can be a good friend to him, too. He hopes that once he finds his true mate he'll be able to move past the attraction he still feels, but for now he resolves not to let it complicate things between them and stuffs it down into the pit of his stomach. Cas's smile slips off his face, and he looks off to the side before he speaks again.

"Gabriel told me you met your true mate over the weekend," Cas says. "Congratulations." It's not exactly true, Dean thinks, since he hasn't actually _met_ them yet, but it's less complicated than telling the truth so he lets it slide. It's probably better for everyone involved if they think that, since he knows that person is out there, and nearby, and he might run into them again at any moment.

"Thanks," Dean says. "I was really sorry I missed you guys at the Halloween party. Sam said you were Captain America?" Suddenly something occurs to him that makes him uncomfortable and sad and before he can think he blurts it out. "Did you agree because you ship Stucky and you have a thing for Sam?" Cas's eyes go almost comically wide.

"I'm...not sure I followed everything in that last sentence? Except 'have a thing for Sam' which no, I assuredly do _not_. What is Stucky?" he asks curiously, and Dean can't help but laugh.

"Why don't you go get yourself a drink, and I'll explain ships to you." Cas’s eyes crinkle up in the most adorable way, and it looks like he has a question on the tip of his tongue before he nods and goes up to the counter.

It's much easier in the end than he thought it would be, to finally talk to Cas. He wonders if that's because he spent so much time daydreaming about how well they'd get along together, what it would be like for them to do this exact thing, sit and have coffee and talk about movies and pop culture and the things they enjoy. Before he knows it several hours have gone by and the coffeeshop is closing for the evening. As the door shuts behind them, sign flipping to CLOSED and the shade coming down, he knocks Cas good-naturedly in the shoulder with his own.

"Is it cool if I keep texting you?" he asks, mentally crossing his fingers. "I mean, are we friends now?"

"Of course, Dean," Cas says, a small smile coming to his lips this time. "I'd like that." He takes two steps backwards before pivoting on his heel and heading up the street to where he's parked his car, the same baby-blue abomination that Dean remembers so well from over the summer. On one hand he feels like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders, the guilt of misunderstandings and harsh words better left unsaid finally leaving him -- but replaced with another feeling, maybe not of guilt but of small, untempered sorrow for all the things that could have been. He watches Cas walk away and get into his car and feels the tug of his heartstrings going along with him.


	6. Chapter 6

The month of November passes by Castiel in a blur, and he's stunned at how different his life is now compared to the same time last year. He remembers being in his parents' house and not feeling an ounce of warmth or holiday cheer, but also not knowing what he was missing. He understands now what Gabe meant about not knowing what was wrong with their home until he'd seen someone else's: seen the easy familial affection and care that all his friends enjoyed at home, feeling a profound sense of longing, of wanting that for himself. Castiel only had the shock of being disowned and ousted from the only home he'd ever known to make him come to terms with those things; he wonders if Gabriel's lengthy realization would have been easier to adjust to, if not as profound.

He decides it doesn't matter, in the end. Gabriel has built a life for himself here, with a successful business and employees who adore him, a home of his own and an easy self-confidence that helps him navigate the world. Castiel is part of that now, and he thinks maybe _just_ enough of his brother has rubbed off on him to reward him with the life he has now, full of more friends in the last few months than he's ever enjoyed in his entire life. He thought he'd been lucky to meet Sam, and by extension Sarah and Jess and Brady, but now he counts Dean among his friends as well and can't help but smile at the thought.

They text one another constantly, have been hanging out more and more, and Dean pops over to meet them for coffee and sample whatever new pie creation Gabe has come up with if he’s working at Singer’s when they’re there. Castiel covets the time he spends with Dean, even though he knows he shouldn't.

He comes into the house on the Tuesday before Thanksgiving and smells that Gabe is hard at work in the kitchen even though it's his day off. He throws his keys into the ceramic bowl, toeing off his shoes and placing his backpack in the armchair as he makes his way into the kitchen. He smiles at Gabe, dancing along to the some Latin dance number he's playing on his iPod, oblivious to his brother leaning on the doorjamb until he loudly clears his throat.

"Cassie!" Gabe cries jubilantly as he spins towards the sound. "Come into my parlor, take a whiff of my latest creation!" Castiel chuckles as he propels himself into the kitchen, taking a seat at the island.  

"What's this then?" he inquires while sniffing the air, intrigued by a smell that's familiar, but not quite.

"Pumpkin pecan pie! The best of both worlds!" Gabe says as a timer goes off and he grabs the nearby oven mitts, placing them over his hands and taking the pie out of the oven with a flourish. "I thought I'd keep it hidden in the back tomorrow until you and the gang come in, and then I'd serve it to them as an early holiday treat."

"That's really sweet of you Gabe, I know they'll all be thrilled. Dean's working over at Singer's tomorrow, too, so I can text him to come over and get some." He's leaning over the pie, breathing in its heady aroma and admiring the lovely way that Gabe has arranged the top layer of pecans, and as he glances up to tell him so he sees Gabe pursing his lips like he's bitten into a lemon. "Something on your mind?"

Gabe starts, and it's obvious he was thinking about something he'd rather not say aloud by the way he turns his back and starts wiping down the already clean counter. Castiel is confused and unsure, wondering if he's done something to upset his brother and replaying the last few days in his head.

"Stop it," Gabe says, halting his thoughts in his tracks. "I can hear you trying to figure out what you did wrong, and the answer is nothing, Cassie. Everything is fine," he says firmly, though he doesn't turn around and doesn't stop running the rag in circles over the same part of the counter.

"It's obviously _something_ , even if it's not specifically me, so you might as spill since you know whatever I think will be much worse than the truth." Gabe stops cleaning, placing both hands flat on the counter and leaning his weight against them.

"I'm just feeling a little conflicted, is all."

"About?" Castiel asks, but suddenly he realizes he already knows. "About my friendship with Dean," he finishes, answering his own question, knowing he's right by the way Gabe hangs his head for a moment before finally turning to face Castiel as he leans back against the counter and crosses his arms.

"I know I gave him my blessing, and I know I encouraged you to talk to him, but now I'm a little worried," he confesses, hanging his head again. "I just wanted to smooth things over and make everybody happy, but...I think I've made things worse for you, haven't I?” He raises his head, piercing Castiel with his amber gaze. "Did I make a mistake, Cassie?"

"Gabe, no," he says. He's worried about his growing feelings for Dean, it's true, but he doesn't blame Gabe for that, only himself. He knows Dean has a true mate, reminds himself of this fact every time Dean smiles at him and he feels his heart flutter. He repeats it to himself when he realizes he’s been staring too long, smiling too wide, a chorus in his brain like a litany: _not yours, not yours, not yours._

Dean has a true mate who no doubt adores him, and that person must be wonderful judging from the way he smiles when he gets a text message. He’s never said who he’s texting with but Castiel can guess, and he hates the jealousy he feels every time Dean looks down at his phone and smiles to himself.

Dean never talks to Castiel about his mate, but there's a part of him that wishes he would. He thinks it might cure him of these feelings to watch Dean gushing happily over the person he loves in person, instead of grinning like a fool while he texts. There's a masochistic part of him that wants to hear all about them, maybe even meet them, in the hopes that it will smother that tiny lick of flame that flares up inside him whenever he thinks of Dean.

"Gabe, you did everything correctly. You knew I'd let my friendship with Sam suffer to avoid an awkward situation, and you also knew that I'd be unhappy about that in the long run. You made the right call by encouraging me to talk to Dean and smooth things over, never doubt that!"

"I didn't think about the other ways it would affect you."

"It's entirely up to me how I let myself be affected."

"I think you're falling in love with him, Cassie," and this time it's Castiel who breaks eye contact and drops his gaze back to the pie on the counter. "I'm right, aren't I?"

"If I am, there's only one inevitable conclusion," he says, getting up from the counter and grabbing a soda out of the fridge, popping the tab and taking a long swig. "And it will hurt, and I'll be sad. But I'll get through it with the support of my brother and my best friend and I'll be stronger for it." He claps Gabe on the shoulder and presses a kiss to his hairline. "You can't protect me from everything in life, Gabe, though you try. It means so much to me that you try."

"I'm so sorry, Cassie. I wish I'd encouraged you more to talk to him sooner, to do something about how you felt..."

"To what end, Gabe? He would still have met his true mate, and where would we be then? I'd still be hurt and I'd still need you to help me get over it -- but I wouldn't be able to be friends with Dean after that, and probably not Sam, either. Maybe things are working out the way they're supposed to."

Gabe envelops him in a hug and claps him on the back.

" _You_ should have been his true mate, if you ask me. That's the way _I_ think things should have gone," he says, releasing him. Castiel just smiles in response before leaving the kitchen, grabbing his backpack as he heads toward the stairs.

As he enters the room, he places everything on his desk before going to lay on his bed, throwing an arm over his eyes as he thinks about everything Gabe said. He's only wrong about one thing, because Castiel isn't falling in love with Dean.

He's already there.

∞

It's busy the day before Thanksgiving at Singer's, but Dean's grateful for that because he's anxious to finish up his shift and head over to Gabe's. He's looking forward to a long holiday weekend, because not only does Bobby not subscribe to that "Black Friday horseshit" by staying closed that day, he also gave Dean the entire weekend off. It doesn’t hurt that Dean is planning a grand Thanksgiving celebration at Bobby's house and doing all the cooking; Bobby is also playing host to John and Charlie, who are flying in together to spend the holiday with them. He plans to spend some time over at Gabe's cafe, and then head straight home to make sure he has everything he needs lined up for tomorrow.

There's only one thing dampening his mood, and it's that he and Sam still haven't managed to find his true mate. He's spent the last several weeks visiting the campus, going wherever Sam tells him to, trying not to directly creep on everyone from the party list but at least get into their general vicinity and get a whiff of their scent. Sam has methodically been crossing off names, and there aren't very many left.

He's been keeping Charlie constantly informed during this process, and he's a little worried that she and Sam are using nefarious means to find everyone who was at the party that night. Dean had hoped to have found them by now, not just so he could get to know them but also introduce them to his father and his best friend, the most important people in his life besides Sam and Bobby. Although lately there's another person whose importance is taking up more and more real estate.

Cas.

There's a part of him that wishes the true mate thing had never happened, because now that he's gotten to know Cas he realizes he was completely right about the connection he felt to him from the beginning. His wry humor is endearing, his intellect is incredibly sexy, and more and more Dean is able to get a smile out of him that makes his heart forget its single purpose because even it has to stop and stare.

He doesn't know what to do with all these feelings. He wants to confide in Cas about his true mate, about the struggle to find them, about his frustration with it -- but he finds it too embarrassing, and it's gone on too long for him to explain now without seeming foolish. He wants to tell Cas it doesn't matter to him, that he doesn't need a true mate in his life if he can have Cas instead. He wants to ask him to give him a chance, ask him to forget that somewhere out there is another person whose scent makes him weak, who’s chemically constructed to be his perfect match.

He'll look at Cas when he's sitting at the table in their kitchen, diligently studying with Sam, and wonder what kind of life would that be for him. Would he always feel unsure if they were together? That Dean would once again come across that irresistible pull to another human being and Cas would lose everything?

He wants to talk about all these things, but he can't -- so he doesn't, choosing instead to give Charlie a constant rundown via text of everything that’s going on until she gets aggravated and tells him to just _talk to him, Dean._ What does Cas even feel, anyway? He knows Dean is unavailable, though they never discuss it, and Dean's sure Cas is too smart to continue to waste sentiment on the likes of him. He doesn't think Cas is insincere in his friendship, but he wonders what will happen to them when he can finally introduce Cas to his actual mate: will he continue on as though nothing has changed, or will he pull away little by little, until Dean is a distant memory?

He hates both of these options.

As he heads across the street to _Butter than the Rest_ , he makes a decision. He won't talk to Cas just yet, but he'll sit down tonight and tell Sam everything he's feeling, see what he thinks. His little brother has always been able to look at a situation with a certain level of detachment and still not lose the emotional context, and Dean’s never needed that skillset more than he does now.

He walks into the cafe, spotting them at a large round table to the far left laughing with Gabe and devouring an entire pie.

"Oh my god, you animals, show some respect!" he cries as he comes up between Cas and Sam and pouts at what remains in the pie tin. Sam breaks out into a fit of unrestrained giggles at the look on Dean's face, and Gabe follows shortly after with the rest of the table. "You're all getting coal for Christmas!" he threatens, but he feels a soft poking in his ribs and looks down at Cas, the only one in the group not squealing with laughter.

"Don't worry, Dean. I saved some for you before Gabe let them loose," he says, sliding a generous piece in front of him on its own plate with a fork. This gesture, and the soft smile that accompany it, seal Dean's fate completely.

True mate be damned: _he's in love with Cas_.

He thinks he has been since the first time he looked into those eyes, and that's a fairy tale he wants to invest in more than any true mate on this earth. Maybe he'll come across that scent again at some point, but distance has given him a perspective that finds it less and less compelling. He smiles at Cas as he takes the plate from him, wanting to kiss him, thinking he might if all these people weren't here.

No. He has to talk to Sam first, though he knows for certain now it won't be a conversation about _if_ as much as about _how_.

Normal chatter resumes among the group as Dean eats, and he's pretty sure he sounds obscene because this pumpkin pecan pie thing Gabe has put together is the most amazing thing he's ever had in his mouth.

_Yet_ , his dirty mind supplies as he steals a glance at Cas.

Everyone starts to drift away, wishing each other happy holidays, and Dean's a little bit surprised to see Brady and Jess link arms as they make their way outside. He thought Sam had a thing for her, but as he turns to question him he sees Sarah kiss Sam on the cheek and tell him she'll call him on Friday, and the smile on Sam's face is all the answer Dean needs. Damn. He really has been absorbed in Cas these last few weeks if he failed to notice this development.

"So what are you guys doing tomorrow, anyway?" he finally asks Gabe after he claims the seat on the other side of Cas.

"Well, I take donations over to the soup kitchen every year in the morning, and Cassie is going to help me this year. It's the first Thanksgiving that we, uh, aren't spending with our parents, so we'll probably just bum around the house and watch movies. It seems silly to cook a huge turkey for just the two of us, according to Cassie, anyway." The brother in question rolls his eyes as if this is a very long argument that he won fair and square and is still tired of hearing about.

"What? That's crazy!" Dean says, looking to Sam for approval and getting it with a single look and a subtle nod. "You should come and have dinner with us! I'm making a ton of food over at Bobby's house, there'll be plenty for everybody."

"Yeah, even our dad is coming," Sam says, "and there'll be another very special guest there that we really want you guys to meet!"

"Oh," Cas says, attempting to demur, "we shouldn't intrude on family time, Sam."

"Don't be stupid. You _are_ family. You _and_ Gabe. To us family is just a hodge podge of stitched together misfits anyway, otherwise it would just be us and dad."

"Yeah, not that we aren't tons of fun and worth the price of admission all by ourselves, but we do like to pad the bill."

Cas looks terrified, even Gabe looks like a deer in headlights, and Dean wonders where he went wrong with this invitation.

"Guys, listen," Sam says, using his Mr. Reasonable is Being Reasonable tone. "You've admitted you're not doing anything for most of the day anyway, so we know you're not busy. It's just food and drinks and laughter. There's nothing to be frightened of. If you're uncomfortable, you can always leave, okay?"

Strangely enough, Gabe looks at Cas before he answers, and Dean doesn't miss the tight nod he gives him.

"That's very generous of you both. We look forward to it, and thank you," Gabe says more soberly than Dean has ever heard him speak.

"Great!" Sam says, clapping Gabe on the back as he stands up and grabs all his things. "Dinner starts at 3, otherwise Dad will stick his hand directly into the oven and start picking bits off the bird barehanded while no one is looking."

"Yeah," Dean agrees, also grabbing his jacket as he stands up. Cas picked Sam up for school this morning so he's riding home with Dean, who's going to use that time to start The Talk with him. "We'll see you guys there. It's the least I can do to reward you for this awesome pie, Gabe. Another A-plus creation, hands down."

∞

"What's on your mind, Dean?" Sam says with no preamble whatsoever before he even shuts the passenger door.

"Am I that easy to read?" Dean stalls, taking his time to slide into the Impala and get her started, fiddling with the radio so he doesn't have to meet his brother's eyes. He finally sighs, giving in as he turns it off completely and half turns to face him. "I know you've spent these last couple of weeks trying to help me find my true mate, Sam, and I'm really grateful for that, I am. But...I want to stop."

"Because you're in love with Cas?" and Dean can practically hear the needle scratching the record as his brain goes dead silent.

"How did...how did you..."

"I've got _eyes_ Dean, for crying out loud."

"Yeah, but...I just figured it out myself about an hour ago," he says weakly.

"That's because you're too close to it. I've known for at _least_ a week now."

"Shit, Sammy, why didn't you say anything?"

"Because I _know you_ , Dean. You had to get there on your own. If I’d said something it would have taken you even longer to admit it. As long as you were letting me look for your mate, you weren't seeing what was obvious to everyone else."

"Every..."

"Everyone _but_ Cas. He thinks you just want to be friends because you're swanning about with your soulmate in your free time, not realizing that the only person you've been spending your free time with is _him."_

Dean lets that sink in as he sits with his hands on the wheel in the darkened parking lot, listening to the rumble of the engine and letting it soothe his frazzled nerves.

"I'm worried, Sam. Worried about how I'll react if I _do_ come across my mate again in some random place at some point in the future. Or rather, worried that _he'll_ always be worried, you know?  I feel strongly about Cas, but it's also been weeks since that happened. What if the distance is making me more confident than I should be? What if Cas gets hurt? What if he doesn't even _want_ this, Sam?" and he has to stop to breathe because once he begins the words just tumble out of his mouth in a huge, unstoppable rush.

"Dean," Sam says, reaching out to lay a hand on his shoulder. "These are all things you need to talk to _him_ about. Really. You might be surprised."

"You think so?" he says, rubbing his chest idly with a hand as though his heart aches.

"You're not the only one I've been observing," Sam says with a smirk.

He wants to feel reassured, and he does, but it's a minor relief compared to the vast uncertainty he now finds himself swimming in.

"I wish it were him, you know?" he says, and Sam actually nods a little bit. "If Cas were an Alpha who smelled like sunlight on snow during an electric storm, my life would be perfect."

He doesn't see the smug smile on Sam’s face as he puts the car into gear and heads towards home, and by the time he glances at the passenger seat his brother's face is stoic and unsurprised.

"You should text him later and ask him if the two of you can talk after dinner tomorrow night. Tell him it's nothing bad, you just have a lot of things you want to say to him." Dean clenches his jaw so hard Sam can see it in the dark, but he nods in the affirmative.

"Will you be okay with this, Sam? If it doesn't work out..."

"Cas and I will still be friends no matter what happens, but Dean -- I really think it's gonna be fine."

He wants to believe Sam, but he can't help the trepidation in his heart.

"Do you think I'm good enough for him, Sam?" he asks, unable to help himself, his voice quiet and timid but audible to Sam nonetheless.

"Dean," he breathes, "you're my brother. You're also another father to me. You're the most important person in my universe. To me there will never be anyone good enough for _you."_

"Jesus," Dean exclaims, "this feels like a father-of-the-bride talk and there are a lot of disturbing layers in there."

They're still laughing as they pull into the driveway at home, and as they calm down and get out of the car to make their way inside Sam shoves Dean a bit with his shoulder.

"It's gonna be fine. I’m sure of it."

Dean dutifully sends Cas a text as Sam suggested before he starts going over his dinner prep. Later that night, after Dean has checked all his lists and arranged the fridge just so, he gets a response that makes him think maybe Sam is right after all.

_Cas: Of course, Dean. I can stay after dinner as long as you need me to._

∞

Dean finishes basting his turkey masterpiece and lovingly re-covers it with foil when he hears the commotion outside. He places it carefully back into the oven and makes another checkmark on his notepad before doffing his apron and opening the garage door off the kitchen with a flourish, where he is summarily attacked by clingy mass of squealing redhead.

"Hey Charles," he manages after he gets his breath back, setting her carefully down on the floor and grinning at her before smacking her on the forehead with a kiss. "Hey Dad," he says as John comes up and wraps him in a bear hug, clapping him on the back and weaving side to side with him. "Let me help you guys with the bags, turkey's good for another thirty." He goes to the trunk where Sam is standing and grabs his dad's well-worn duffle and a knapsack, unable to help the grin on his face when he sees Sam carrying Charlie's R2D2 wheelie bag into the house with a backpack that has the design of the Marauder's Map on it. "Charles, you crossed the streams. You can't mix the fandoms together in your assortment of luggage, how will anyone know they're all yours if the plane goes down?" he asks her in mock horror.

"Shut up, you know I do what I want!" she exclaims as she follows them into the house, gaily trotting into the living room to where Bobby is dozing in his recliner, throwing her arms around him from behind and planting a kiss on his cheek. "Hey old man, been a while. Thanks for having me," she says as he startles awake and then awkwardly reaches up to ruffle her hair with both hands as she giggles.

"Hey girl, you know you're always welcome here. John, how're you doing?" he says as John comes into the living room and shakes his hand before leaning in to half hug him and clap him on the back.

"Plane was delayed because of the storm so _that_ was a bitch and a half, but it could've been a lot worse. It smells great in here already," he says, addressing Dean now as he comes into the kitchen, peering at the oven timer that shows there's still two hours left to go and scowling at it like he's personally offended. "What time do we eat?"

"Dinner's at three as you well know, don't even think about opening this oven unless you want it to take longer. I have a very precise basting schedule and I don't want you affecting my perfect turkey roasting environment. Go watch the game with Bobby, shoo."

Nobody really pays much attention to the television; they're all too busy catching up with one another, Dean drifting in and out of the kitchen to join the conversation as he's able. Finally Charlie comes in alone and hoists herself up onto the kitchen island, looking pensively at Dean as he removes the beautifully browned turkey from the oven and sets it on some towels at the far end of the counter to rest, resetting the oven racks and popping in the rolls.

"So tonight's the night, huh? You're doing a good job of hiding how nervous you are in all this dinner prep."

"Charlie..."

"Don't even try it, buddy, I know all your tells. It's gonna be fine, Dean."

"You say that, and Sam says that, but what if..."

"Uh-uh. You know I don't like the 'What If?' game ever since I read that short story by Asimov. Conjecture is pointless when everything will reach its inevitable conclusion regardless."

"You're so wise, oh great one."

"Yeah, you know it," she teases back, kicking him playfully in the butt with her foot. He gives her a playful scowl. "What time does he get here?"

"I told them to arrive right at dinnertime, so maybe fifteen more minutes? That way he wouldn't be subjected to too much stranger danger, and none of you would be exposed to his brother long enough before dinner to lose your appetites. Besides, Gabe won't be able to talk as much with his mouth full so you'll all be able to get acclimated before you get a full dose of him."

"Sounds like a riot!"

"Yeah, he's actually really funny but don't ever tell him I said that. And sometimes his teasing needs to be checked, because eventually he makes Cas squirm, which makes Gabe try even harder to make him uncomfortable, and so on."

"Sounds a little bit like another set of brothers I know. Gosh, what were their names?" she says innocently, looking at the ceiling as though she's thinking really hard, so he pokes her in the ribs.

"Just promise you'll keep me distracted during dinner so I don't start freaking out, okay? I'm half-tempted to leave you all to it and drag him off for our talk as soon as he gets here just so I can get it out of the way and know my fate."

"Aye aye, captain," she says, jumping off the counter to snap her heels together and give him a jaunty salute. "Now, have we reached the point where you'll let me touch things yet?" He laughs and starts directing her to carry foil-covered dishes out to the table, and she hollers to the others to come and help. The doorbell rings just as they come into the kitchen, and Sam turns on his heel to go answer the front door.

Gabe enters first, carrying a brown paper bag laid on its side, as Cas stands on the front porch shaking the rain off a large umbrella before he comes in and pulls the door shut behind him. His eyes meet Dean's and he smiles, and Dean finds himself grinning back like a fool before he's distracted by Gabe placing his package on the kitchen island next to the cooling dinner rolls.

"Since I had some time to kill today, I decided it would be rude not to contribute," he says, winking at Dean. "It's the least I can do." Peeking into the bag he sees two pie boxes, and he doesn't even need to look at them to know that no matter how this evening turns out, there will be something to make it all better at the end. He hears Sam doing all the introductions as he puts the still warm rolls into a large basket and covers them with a towel, placing them on the table and telling everyone to please be seated.

He can't hide his proud smile as he walks the bird out to the table and places it regally by Bobby so he can cut it.

"Dean, you should have your dad cut it, he's the head of your family."

"No way, Singer, this is your house and I don't want that kind of responsibility," John says, holding up his hands. "We all know I'm terrible with sharp objects." As most of the table laugh, Sam explains Gabe about John's woodworking business as Dean hands Bobby the carving knife like it's a ceremonial sword.

"Idjit," Bobby says under his breath, but his eyes twinkle anyway. Dean takes the seat to his right, on the same side of the table as Sam and across from Cas, who has Charlie sitting between him and Gabe as John occupies the other end of the table.

"So," Gabe says, rubbing his hands together as Bobby stands up to carefully carve the turkey. "Any family traditions we should know about?"

"Well," John says, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "It's been awhile since it was more than just me and the boys for the holiday, but I've always liked the idea of going around the table and naming at least one thing we're all thankful for."

"Perfect!" says Gabe, clapping John on the shoulder like they're old friends. "Who wants to go first?"

"You should," John says, raising an eyebrow at Gabe, "since you're so enthusiastic about it." Gabe's responding laugh is so disarming that even John can't help but smile as Gabe taps a single finger on his temple like he's thinking really hard.

"I am grateful for hungry and sleep-deprived people, but especially college students. And you?" he retorts, smirking back at John, who looks around the table before he answers.

"Maybe it's trite, but I'll say family. Even if they're not your blood." He looks across the table when he says it, and Bobby gives him a look of pure understanding and a nod of acknowledgement before he resumes his task. "What about you, Sam?"

"College, I think. Because it's already changed my life so much, down to the people that are in it now," and he may be smiling at Gabe and Cas but Dean will bet money he's also thinking about a brunette named Sarah as he says it. "Dean?"

"Pie. I'm always grateful for pie."

"Then I must be your favorite person in this room, Dean-o."

"There was never any doubt, Gabe, I'm planning to propose as soon as those pies come out except I've got a bum knee..." and he gets a face full of napkin from the other end of the table. "Dude, I spent like twenty minutes folding these!" he cries, throwing it back at his attacker. "Bobby, your turn."

"Well right now I'm grateful that I had the foresight to sharpen this dang knife yesterday," and Charlie laughs hardest at that, because she's always had a weird weak spot for Bobby's wry humor. "But if we're being serious I'm with John in my gratitude," he finishes as he sits down again, picking up the now full platter of turkey and passing it to Cas. "What about you, son?" he asks him as he hands it off.

"Oh, well, um..." Cas flushes to the roots of his hair, and Dean hopes no one notices the sappy look of adoration he can feel on his own face. "I'm probably going to regret this later, but I have to say Gabriel."

"Aw, Cassie..."

"Even if insists on calling me that."

"My turn!" Charlie cries out, throwing her hands in the air. "I'm grateful for Dean, the love of my life," she says loftily, batting her eyelashes at him in such an exaggerated fashion over the platter of turkey she's now holding that he can't help but snort.

"You're a dork."

"But you love me."

"Yes, my queen," he replies, mock bowing in his seat. Everyone busies themselves with passing dishes back and forth, heaping their plates with food and chatting excitedly with one another. He can hear Gabe asking John questions about his Etsy shop and Charlie quizzing Sam about his classes from across the table while Bobby busies himself with methodically placing food into his mouth. He looks across the table at Cas, who actually seems quiet and withdrawn and looks like he'd rather be anywhere but here. It was probably a little too much to sit him next to Charlie, and he kicks him lightly under the table so that he glances up, startled.

"Relax, Cas. It's just food. Everything's gonna be fine," he hears himself saying, and wonders at those words coming out of his own mouth when he's scoffed at everyone else who's said them to him.

Cas gives him a small smile but it looks sad and resigned, and Dean puzzles over it as he watches Cas make a concentrated effort to join the conversation around him.

∞

An hour later everyone is so full they can barely move, and the conversation dwindles down as Dean gets up from the table and starts to gather dirty dishes.

"Stop that, ya idjit," Bobby says, throwing his napkin down on his empty plate and getting up from the table himself. "You cooked this feast all by yourself, the rest of us can team up to deal with the aftermath. Gabe here can dish out his dessert offering, and Cas can keep you company in the den while we work." He gets no argument from anyone else, and the protest Dean tries to voice is drowned out by the sound of scraping chairs and clattering dishware. He's grateful in any case, because now he doesn't have to come up with a reason to get Cas alone as he follows him into Bobby's spacious living room, but he tugs on his sleeve as they enter.

"Hey, do you want to go out on the porch and get some fresh air? It's pretty well sheltered from the rain, it shouldn't be too bad with our coats on." Cas nods in acquiescence but doesn't say anything, and Dean's grateful to head outside after him so he can find out what's wrong if nothing else.

It's well and truly pouring outside, but Bobby's wraparound porch is deep and so they're well-protected from the rain as they sit on the padded outdoor settee that Bobby refuses to acknowledge is wicker. The cushions are thick and springy, so it's a comfortable place to relax and sink into as they stare out at the night, streetlights turning the rain into so many glistening jewels falling from the sky, a storm of miniature aqua meteorites hurling themselves against the earth to be absorbed. They're far enough apart to not be touching, but Dean can feel the heat from Cas's body all along his right side, six inches away and taut as a bow string. He clears his throat but keeps his gaze where it is, not even daring to use his peripherals.

"I, um, I'm not sure how to begin," he falters, rubbing his hands on his thighs because his palms are sweating even in the cool air. "I have to tell you something but...it's hard."

"You don't need to, Dean," Cas responds quietly, voice laced with an emotion he can't quite pinpoint.

"I want to, though."

"Well, maybe I don't want you to," Cas says sharply, standing up and walking closer to the railing, though not within the foot of decking made darker by the intruding rain.

"You don't even know what I'm going to say!"

"Yes I do!" Cas bites back, turning to face Dean with a look he's never seen before. "I know, okay? I know you want to tell me about your true mate -- I'm not blind, Dean, she's wonderful and I'm happy for you, I really am, you don't have to treat me like I'm going to break okay?" he says, panting hard now that he's gotten that sentence out in a single breath. "I've known where I stand for weeks and weeks, it's not news to me. You could have just told me that I'd get to meet her tonight, all this subterfuge to spare my feelings is really unnecessary." There are so many things wrong with this statement that Dean's flustered mind can barely latch onto which one he wants to address first.

"That's not what, I mean that's not who..."

"Dean, please don't. I'm a grown man, not a teenager with crush. You don't have to tiptoe around me."

"Is that what you think I'm doing?" Dean retorts angrily, standing look Cas in the eye. "For what fucking _purpose_ , exactly?" Cas opens his mouth to reply but closes it sharply, as though he knows exactly what he wants to say but thinks better of it. "You have got this entire situation _completely_ wrong, Cas, I'm serious."

"Oh, I do? Then please explain to me what exactly _is_ the situation, Dean." He stares back defiantly, clenching his jaw hard enough that Dean can see the muscle tighten and release as the angry look turns into one of saddened resignation, and Dean's confusion blanks out his brain enough that he can only respond in one way.

He crosses the last interminable foot of space to cradle Cas's face in his hands and kiss him. He sees those blue eyes widen in startled surprise before he closes his own but the lips don't respond, and as his brain comes back online he thinks maybe he's made a mistake and should back away -- but Cas makes a small sound and then his lips turn pliant.

Dean moves to wrap an arm around his waist, still cradling his cheek in one hand and using it to angle his head just so, nibbling at those plush lips that have been driving him to distraction for months now. He turns to lean back against the railing and pull Cas against him, feeling the rain drench him quickly from head to foot but not caring at all because he is kissing Cas, finally, and every daydream he had about this moment, even in the midst of his fevered heat, is nothing like the real thing.

Minutes pass and Dean is soaked in more ways than one when Cas pulls back suddenly, covering his mouth and stepping away until his legs hit the settee. He doesn't sit down but stops in his tracks, and he looks like he's going to cry and Dean's even more confused than ever.

"Dean, you smell...but I can't...Charlie, she...I don't want anyone to get hurt, I shouldn't have done that, I'm so sorry!" he blurts out before darting off the porch and out into the rain. Dean stands stock still for a second, the gears in his brain clicking into place as he puts everything together and runs after him. He's already drenched but the rain is coming down hard, making it difficult to see the tan trench coat ahead of him as Cas comes to a stop next to Gabriel's car, frantically pulling at the locked door like it's going to magically give him entry.

"Cas!" he yells as he reaches the car himself, grabbing him by the arm and spinning him around. Cas won't look him in the eye, is pressing his hands to Dean's chest to keep him at arm’s length, but he won't be deterred. "Charlie is _not_ my true mate!"

Cas blinks at him stupidly, wet hair hanging into his face, lip trembling.

"She's...she's not? But...but she said...and you said...and you were texting her all the time and I thought..."

"No, Cas. We grew up together. She's like a sister to me, of course I love her." Cas closes his eyes and throws his head back, letting the rain pelt him in the face as if to clear his mind.

"Dean, your scent is overwhelming, and I don't think you should be around me. Whoever your true mate is, I don't want to be the reason to cause them pain, and I don't want to do something I'll regret later. Please," he says, pushing weakly against Dean's chest.

"I do _not care_ about my true mate, Cas. I don't even know them! I care about _you._ You're the one I want, no one else," he cries above the rain, grabbing Cas by the lapels and shaking him a little. "Please, Cas. Come inside. We need to talk, please."

"But your mate, Dean..."

"Is not here!" he shouts, pulling Cas into his embrace, and as he does the scent he's been chasing for weeks suddenly fills his nostrils and he practically collapses with surprise and relief. It can't be, he thinks as he places his nose to Cas's neck and inhales -- it's unmistakeable, in his arms, and literally right under his nose.

"Fuck, Cas!" he groans, rubbing his wet nose into Castiel's skin and feeling him shiver. "I think...I think my true mate _is_ here after all," he mumbles into his ear, nosing at the scent gland just below it again to make sure he's not wrong. Jesus Christ. Castiel has been wearing blockers. Castiel is a fucking _Alpha_. Castiel is _his_ Alpha _._

"Dean, I don't understand," Cas sobs into his neck, but Dean just backs away and takes Cas by the hand, pulling him off the car and up the outside stairs to the garage apartment where he and Sam live. He opens the door and pulls Cas inside, who's now shivering with the wet and cold and with confused disbelief.

"Come on," he says, pulling the wet trench coat off Cas's shoulders first, and then his own coat, hanging them on the pegs by the door before taking Cas by the hand once again and pulling him further into the apartment. He grabs a couple of towels from the linen closet before tugging Cas into his own bedroom. "Here," he says, pressing a big fluffy towel into Cas's shivering arms, "dry yourself off and get out of these wet clothes. I'll get something dry for us to wear, and then we have to talk." Cas closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, as if he needs to fortify himself, then nods. Dean rifles through his drawers until he finds a pair of drawstring pants and a hoodie, which he throws in the general direction of where Cas is standing without looking, and then grabs some dry clothes for himself. He shucks his wet things and quickly changes, not bothering to see if Cas is looking or not, and gathers up his clothes before he turns around to face him.

Judging from the look on his face, Cas did not avert his eyes from Dean's bare ass, and that makes him feel warm inside. He grabs the wet clothes shed by Cas and tosses them all onto his bathroom floor. He'll deal with them later.

He turns to face Cas again, crossing the room slowly to stand in front of him, and for a full minute their gazes are locked on one another before Dean breaks.

"Sam never told you that I never actually _met_ my true mate at the party that night, did he?" he finally says, and he knows the answer when Cas's eyes get wide as dinner plates. "I mean, we agreed not to tell anyone because it seemed so silly, and he was sure I would come across them again soon enough, but I always thought maybe he would have at least told _you_." Cas shakes his head slowly, eyes still wide. "So we've spent the past month exposing me in one way or another to everyone we could find who was at the party that night, and none of them were the one." He reaches out to cup a stubbled cheek, and Cas leans into the touch even though he never breaks eye contact. "Last night on the way home, I told Sam I wanted to stop looking because...because none of them were _you_ , Cas. And I wanted it to be you. All this time, I just wanted it to be you."

"I don't understand, Dean, how..."

"Shhh," Dean says, cradling his face in both hands as he presses their foreheads together. "You normally wear blockers, don't you?"

"Yes," Cas replies, softly, hands coming up to cover Dean's.

"You didn't the night of the Halloween party, did you?" and Dean takes the surprised gasp he hears as another yes. "Weeks and weeks I've been chasing that scent, needing to find the person who made me feel that way, but more and more that memory has been displaced by the presence of someone else. Of _you_ , Cas. Because I still wanted you, but didn't think I had a right anymore to _have_ you. And now your blockers have been washed off by the rain and I'm certain, because I've found it again."

He moves up to kiss Cas gently on the forehead, then leans closer to whisper in his ear as he snakes his arms around his waist.

"It's you, Cas. It's always been you."

"You wanted it to be me?" Cas whispers as Dean draws back from him but doesn't let go of his hand, tugging him towards the bed. "Why?" Dean sits on the edge of the mattress and scoots back, drawing Cas down onto it with him so they can lie facing one another.

"I thought you were a Beta," Dean says, pulling their clasped hands to his chest and running his lips along the knuckles. "I was happy about that, the first time I saw you. I don't...I don't have good history with Alphas. So I was relieved when I thought you were a Beta, because I wanted you so much."

"Dean, I'm sorry."

"Shh. After, well, after the party happened I didn't know how to feel. I didn't want to belong to an Alpha, but that scent. _Your_ scent, Cas. It's like a siren song of...happiness. Of _home_. When we met again a few weeks ago, well, it was the first time I hated that you were a Beta. Or so I thought, anyway."

"Are you sorry now that you know I'm an Alpha?"

"No! Cas, no. You're not...you're not like any other Alpha I've ever met."

"But I am!" Cas cries out, despondent. "Dean, I..." he closes his eyes tightly and takes a deep breath. "When I picked Sam up for class that Monday, I caught your heat scent on his jacket and I...I went into a rut," he whispers.

"Oh my god."

"Exactly! I'm a terrible excuse for an Alpha, you deserve someone who can _control_ themselves Dean..." but he squeaks as Dean rolls on top of him, cutting him off with a kiss.

"Cas," he breaths into his mouth. "Don't you see?" Cas shakes his head in bewilderment. "Has your rut ever been triggered by an Omega's scent before?" he asks, tracing his cheek with a finger.

"No, never. Not even when I was in the same room with them during their heat." Dean draws back a bit to stare at him.

"I'm going to need you to explain that later, but for now it only means one thing to me: you went into a rut because you smelled your true mate, too. You smelled _me._ "

He can see the gears turning in Castiel's mind as he processes this information, and when it clicks he looks up at Dean with wonder and smiles so big Dean has to kiss him again.

∞

"Why do you hide what you are, Cas?" Dean asks some time later when the kisses have tapered off, curious. He's been subjected to the worst examples of Alphas he thinks the human race has to offer, and Castiel is so far removed from any of them that he can't even begin to understand why he thinks so poorly of himself.

Cas is actually stunned that Dean doesn't know already, that Sam never told, but it dawns on him that both he and Dean are guilty of underestimating Sam's loyalty.

"Dean, everyone at the house, they'll be worried," he hedges, trying to stall.

"No, they won't."

"But your family, Dean, they came all this way to see you..."

"That includes _you_ , Cas. And I have all weekend to spend with _all_ of you. Right now, though, it's just _us_. Talk to me, Cas."

Castiel is hesitant at first, sentences coming in fits and starts, but eventually he tells Dean everything about his parents, about their preparations, about that horrible weekend when what they expected of him became all at once crystal clear and completely impossible for him to take. How he'd taken to wearing blockers ever since he'd started living with Gabe, because he didn't want anyone to have expectations of him ever again.

"The night of the party, I thought I'd try it out, you know? I thought it would be a good test, because I was in costume and no one would really know who I was anyway. It gave me a little more confidence to wear them less and less, but only when I'm at home on the weekends, not interacting with anyone but Gabe, or maybe Sam."

"Shit," Dean says, rolling onto his back and covering his face with both hands for a second before pressing his palms to his temples. "I wish I'd told him weeks ago how my mate smelled, he could have solved this mystery then. I said it last night and he didn't let on that he made the connection, but I bet he did. I think he didn't want to take away from what I was planning to tell you tonight anyway."

"Planning to tell me what?" Cas says, a curious lilt in his voice. Dean turns his head to look at him, staring into the depth of those infinite pools he passes off as eyes, then turns onto his side again so he's facing him completely.

"Cas. I want you to know that what I'm about to say, it's been true for a while. Weeks. Maybe even months. I think I knew from the time I first saw you. I want you to know that this is because of _you_ and who _you_ are, not just about how you smell." Cas reaches out and traces a finger over Dean's collarbone, eyes following its trajectory before he looks up and nods, once. Dean takes a deep breath.

"I'm...I'm in love with you, Cas. Castiel."


	7. Chapter 7

They stare at one another in the semi-darkness, the light from the bathroom behind Dean illuminating just enough that he can see Cas's face as he blinks rapidly for a minute, then breaks into that smile that never fails to make Dean's heart skip a beat. He only has a moment to enjoy it before he finds himself pinned to the bed by a full grown man who is enthusiastically kissing him.

"Dean..." he breathes out heavily every time he breaks to catch his breath, repeating it like a mantra, like a prayer. Dean's hands work themselves into that unruly mop of wet hair before he moves one down the length of Cas's back to wrap around his waist, pulling their bodies even more closely together. Cas breaks off to gasp and start kissing Dean's neck, nosing his scent gland as he worships his throat.

"I'm going to assume you're pleased by that declaration," Dean says and is rewarded by teeth raking over his collarbone. Cas gently removes Dean's hands from where they are and presses them to the sides of his head, clasping their fingers together as he looks down at him with something akin to worship.

"Dean, these past few weeks, they've been torture for me," he says solemnly. "Spending so much time with you made me want you more and more, and I had to remind myself constantly that you belonged to someone else. And when I saw how you and Charlie acted together at dinner, I thought...I had told myself that when I finally met your true mate it would help me to move on. I knew it would hurt, but...I felt so much despair, Dean, looking at you across a bowl of mashed potatoes and thinking I'd lost you forever."

"Cas," he breathes out, wishing he could erase all of that. "I'm sorry you were hurt, but you won't ever be again. Because I'm yours. I have been, all this time." Cas just stares at him for a minute before he leans down to kiss him again with reverence, letting go of one of his hands to cup his face, then leaning their foreheads together.

"I love you, too," he says, and Dean nearly sobs with relief.

"Make me yours, Cas, for everyone to see," he whispers, and it's like flicking a switch. The shy reservedness so typical of Castiel packs an overnight bag and abruptly leaves the room, slamming the door behind itself as Dean gets manhandled out of his shirt and sweatpants. Cas kneels beside him and runs a hand up the outside of a leg and across his chest, skating over both nipples with a fingertip, making him gasp. Dean sits up and places his hands under the shirt Cas is wearing, feeling the muscles of his stomach before he runs his hands up his ribcage to divest him of the offending garment and pull Cas back down on top of him, rolling them over deftly so he can also remove his pants.

He gazes at the lean, well-muscled body before him, committing it to memory after spending so much time fantasizing about it. The idea of being with an Alpha has always made him nervous or scared, but he has no such trepidation while he looks at Cas splayed out before him like unexplored country. What he feels instead is _hunger_.

"Cas," he croaks as he stares at the half-hard cock resting against his thigh and growing larger under Dean's gaze. "I've wanted this so much, for so long."

"Me, too, Dean," Cas whispers in response. "I, uh, I've never..." he trails off, but Dean understands what he means and stretches out next to him, pressing their bare skin together everywhere he can. "You'll tell me if I do something wrong?" he asks quietly, stroking Dean's jaw gently.

"I've never been with an Alpha, before, so this is new to me, too. Just follow your instincts, Cas. I trust you." That seems to be all Cas needed to hear because he pulls Dean against him fiercely, running a hand down his leg and grabbing behind the knee to pull it over his own. Dean feels cool fingers stroking up the back of his thigh and across the cheek of his ass before moving down through his cleft to stroke his already wet opening, leaking slick that betrays his own unbridled desire. Cas devours the moans that come out of his mouth as he continues his ministrations, circling the muscle firmly before working his entire middle finger inside as Dean breaks off with a gasp. He can't restrain himself from rolling his hips, making their rock hard cocks brush against one another as he spears himself on that single finger. "More, Cas, please," he says brokenly, and is rewarded with another finger as Cas runs his teeth across the cords of his neck, mapping out the spot where he plans to leave his mark.

Having so much gloriously naked skin pressed against him as Cas strokes him from inside and ruts their cocks together is already better than any fantasy Dean has ever enjoyed about Cas, and better than any actual sexual experience he's ever had. He rolls Cas onto his back and straddles his thighs, rocking down onto those glorious fingers as he leans down to take a nipple into his mouth. He hears Cas whimper and then feels him working in another finger, and as he adjusts to the slight burn and stretch of this new fullness he uses his teeth to lightly graze over Cas’s chest.

"Dean!" Cas cries out beneath him, and it's like music to his ears. He plans to spend a lot of time figuring out how to get Cas to scream his name. He wraps his hand around the magnificent Alpha member beneath him and gives it a firm stroke, and Cas gasps as the movement of his fingers stutters. Dean leans down to lick the column of his throat and then whisper in his ear.

"Can't wait anymore, Cas. Need you inside me." He gets a fervent nod in response, and as those magnificent fingers withdraw he moves so that he can lower himself on that amazing cock, sinking down on it slowly as Cas's fingers grasp desperately at his hips before one of them moves behind to rub firmly at Dean's rim as it stretches to accommodate his girth. Dean whimpers as he's finally seated, more full than he's ever been with any of his toys during the worst parts of a heat, and he rotates his hips in a circular motion that makes Cas moan beneath him, rubbing his free hand up Dean's thigh to loosely fist his cock.

"Oh Dean," he breathes softly as he gazes up at him, and Dean decides that every dashed hope, every misunderstanding, every wasted minute was worth it if they were the price he had to pay for this moment. He plants a hand on either side of Cas's head as he leans down to kiss him breathless, those restless hands cupping his ass as he starts to move, slow and deliberate, savoring every delicious sound that comes out of that gorgeous mouth until Cas decides he's done being a passive participant and sits up, wrapping his arms around Dean and rolling him swiftly onto his back. As his head hits the pillow he looks up at Cas, pupils blown wide with desire in the sliver of light from the doorway, and he growls slightly at the sight of Dean splayed beneath him.

"Fuck me, Cas," he says, lifting his hips where they're still connected. "Want to feel you. Want your knot. Want your _bite_ ," and he can almost hear the inner Alpha howl with lustful glee as Cas drives into him like a man possessed.

"Touch yourself, Dean," he growls, hoisting one of his legs over an arm, the other bracing himself as he leans over to capture his lips again. "Want to feel you come between us, feel you clench around me when I bury my knot inside you." He pulls Dean's lower lip through his teeth as he whimpers and grabs his own dick, dripping wet with precome. He's so hard it almost hurts, and he knows it won't take long but he's not ashamed -- he's waited ages for this and he knows it's only the first time of many. Half a dozen strokes makes him cry out, painting his own stomach and chest with white ropes of come as he feels Cas's knot start to catch on his rim as his hips start to stutter. He slows his movements and pulls out, making Dean whimper at the loss, wondering why he's stopped, but Cas is gently moving him onto his side and pressing up behind him, spearing into him again as Dean cries out his name.

He moves less frantically now but no less firmly, getting an arm under one of Dean's legs again as he drives into him deeply over and over again. Dean is a shuddering mass of sated bliss as he feels Cas’s knot tugging repeatedly at his rim, and he reaches behind him to grab a handful of Castiel's unruly dark hair. Cas growls at the sensation, and then his knot finally pops and locks them together as Cas bites at Dean's throat, but not hard enough to break the skin, to claim him. Dean howls as he feels the stretch, the warm pulse of Cas as he comes deep inside, releasing Dean's leg as he smears the cooling remnants of his own release into his stomach. "Cas," Dean breathes out in a tortured whine, limp dick twitching as though it plans to participate again if only it can find the strength. He releases Cas's hair to cover his hand with his own, their fingers interlacing over Dean's stomach as Cas he nuzzles into Dean's hair.

"Did I hurt you?" he whispers, sounding fearful. "Are you uncomfortable? Is everything okay? I thought this position would be better for, for when..."

"Hey," Dean soothes, turning to look over his shoulder despite the distinct ache there. "Everything's fine. I'm extremely comfortable," and he clenches down on the knot trapped inside him, causing it to pulse and release another load of come as Cas gasps into hair and clenches his fingers tightly. "And you only hurt me in the very best way. You were amazing. But you didn't..."

"No," Cas says, gripping Dean tightly, nosing at the place on his neck that's sure to bruise. "It's too soon. I want you to be sure."

"Cas..."

"Dean, you just discovered I'm an Alpha an hour ago. I've never...I've never been _myself_ around you, not like this. I want...I want you to be _sure_ before I put you in a position you'll regret."

"Oh, Cas. Just the fact that you think like that should be enough proof that you're unlike all the others," Dean says, turning his head as much as he can to look at him. "We can wait if that's what you need, but I already know you'll never hurt me."

"I feel like I lost control for a second there," he replies bashfully.

"Yeah, you did, and it was _hot_ ," Dean chuckles. "Um, how long does, uh..."

"This last?" Cas responds, pressing his knot a little further in until Dean reflexively clenches around the blissful intrusion, making his dick twitch again. "Maybe another twenty minutes? Enough time for you to rest."

"Mmmm, perfect," Dean responds. "We can take showers and head back over to the house to have celebratory pie."

"Dean, what if they...what if they don't..."

"Cas. Everyone will be thrilled for us, Charlie especially. I think she's been making herself crazy trying to keep me in good spirits while I looked for a mate I wasn't sure I wanted while wrestling with everything I was feeling for you. Knowing those two people are one and the same is going to make her year." Cas lets out an amused huff against his neck, because he still can't believe this is happening even as he drinks in the intoxicating scent of Dean wrapped in his arms, all his dreams made manifest.

"Be prepared though. Dad and Bobby will probably team up to give you the Talk; I'm sure Gabe is already rolling up his sleeves in preparation for mine." Dean shudders slightly. "He was kind of scary the last time he lectured me, but don't ever let on."

Cas is quiet for a second as he mulls his over, and he presses another kiss into Dean's hair before he speaks again.

"Then what do we do...after?"

"Whatever we want, Cas. Although lots more sex is at the top of my list. Will you stay here tonight? With me?" He can feel Cas running his lips along the skin under his ear, lips warm and reverent as they move to whisper in his ear.

"I think I can do that."

∞

An hour later it's still pouring outside, but they are sated and showered and dressed again so they take the inside stairs down into Bobby's garage. They use the door that leads back into the dark and empty kitchen, but they can hear the television in the den and the sound of happy voices. Cas freezes at the doorway to the kitchen, stopping Dean's movement with a squeeze of his hand -- but Dean just turns back to him slowly, lifting his other hand to cup his cheek and kiss him softly before he smiles, warm and inviting and full of confidence before he pulls him into the den.

He needn't have worried, if the jubilant cheer that Charlie, Sam and Gabe send out is anything to go by. Bobby looks austere and gives Cas a critical eye, but John's attempt to give him the same look doesn't hold long before he's laughing with unrestrained mirth, getting up to wrap them both in a giant hug and clap Cas on the back.

“You owe me twenty bucks, Charlie.”

“I do _not_. That’s a hickey if anything, not a bite.”

“Why haven’t you sealed the deal?” Sam asks. “You’re true mates!”

“Yes,” Gabe agrees, “and we’ve all got money riding on this thing.”

“How did you…” Cas sputters, but Dean interrupts, looking directly at Sam.

“How long have you known?” he asks, and Sam shrugs.

“I _suspected_ a few days after the party. I wasn’t sure until you told me exactly how your true mate smelled last night. So...what gives?”

“Sam, leave your brother and Cas alone,” John admonishes lightly. “They can make their own decisions.”

"Don't worry, little brother," Gabe says, as he turns his attention to back to the TV. "There's still an entire pie left in the kitchen. Figured you and Dean-o would need sustenance after all the _talking_ you just did."

"While you're in there, make us more popcorn!" Charlie cries out, holding a giant empty bowl above her head as she leans against the arm of the sofa, legs across Sam's lap as they all watch "A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving."

"Of course, my queen," Dean says, grabbing the bowl from her, and now that he's not distracted by jealousy Cas can hear the teasing sarcasm in Dean's voice as he addresses her. He follows him back into the kitchen where Dean flips on the lights, deftly moving about as he grabs another bag of popcorn out of the pantry and tosses it into the microwave, then gets a couple of plates before he reverently opens the remaining pie box to reveal Gabe's pumpkin pecan creation.

"Shit, Cas, since you didn't claim me I may have to marry your brother after all," he says with a wink, grabbing a knife to cut a slice for each of them, then grabbing the finished popcorn and dumping it into a bowl. They head back out to the den, Dean passing the popcorn to Sam and laughing at Charlie's sulking face as he holds it out of reach, then gesturing for Cas to sit next to his brother on the loveseat.

Gabe elbows him as he gets comfy, grinning like a fool as Dean sits on the floor between Castiel's legs, leaning over to loudly stage whisper.

"I don't think you did a good job, Cassie, if he can still sit comfortably like that."

A few hours before Castiel would have blushed, but now he just runs a hand through Dean's hair, waiting for everyone to finish chuckling before he stage whispers back.

"I just gave him an appetizer, the entree is later," entirely too pleased at the utterly shocked look on Gabe's face as Dean just laughs and laughs, throwing his head back to smile up at him.

Later, after Gabe heads home and everyone else has gone to bed, Cas makes so good on his promise that Dean smiles the entire time he makes pancakes the next morning at the big house, even if he has to stand up to eat.

∞

It's three weeks after Thanksgiving when Dean realizes that they've already reached a crossroads, staring at the reminder that comes up on his phone, considering.

 _Patch change_!

One could argue that it's not necessary to follow his normal routine; but there's a little voice in his head that whispers something else.

He thinks Castiel can sense his distraction when he comes over that night, looking curiously at him over the dinner table as the three of them eat, and then while he and Sam are studying he glances up at Dean from time to time as he does the dishes and wipes down the counters. When Dean finishes up and heads into his bedroom, Castiel gets up to follow.

"Dean?" he says, hesitantly. "Can you tell me what's wrong?" He likes that Cas doesn't pretend not to know that something is different, that he knows Dean well enough at this point to be sure in his assessment and just try to get to the point, so he nods. He sits down on the bed, back against the headboard, and pats the mattress beside him. Castiel gingerly toes off his shoes before following Dean onto the bed, but he sits cross-legged and faces him instead. "I'm listening."

Dean leans into him first, nuzzling into his neck to take in his scent, a constant source of comfort now that Cas has given up on his blockers.

"The reminder about my suppressant patch came up this morning, only this is the year I usually skip it to give my body a break." He hears Cas take in a sharp breath, and he pulls back, sitting up and looking down at his own hands as he continues. "I've always done it before Christmas, because it usually takes a week for my body to regulate and by then I would be on break from classes anyway."

"But...but you already had a heat a couple months ago when..." Cas trails off as he sees the disappointment on Dean's face.

"I had a heat, but I was still wearing my patch the whole time, so my body never got a break from the hormones. That heat was...unexpected." He glances up to see Cas biting his lip and looking guilty, and reaches up to thumb his lip until he releases it from his teeth, leaning up to kiss him softly. "Don't get that look."

"So you're saying..."

"I'm saying that some time next week I’m going to go into heat."

Cas puts his head down, picking idly at a non-existent thread on his knee, and minutes go by as he processes this information. Dean waits, trying to be patient, let Cas figure out for himself what Dean’s is really trying to say.

_Make me yours, Cas, for everyone to see._

He hasn’t stopped wanting that, not for a moment, but doesn’t want to push. There’s a part of him that’s afraid to.

"Are you...I mean, will you...will you let me know when it starts, at least?" he says so quietly that Dean has to strain to hear. "So I don't accidentally intrude on your privacy." His voice catches at the last and Dean sits up in alarm, moving to kneel on the bed before him and cradle his face in his hands.

"Are you kidding me right now?" he asks in disbelief. "Do you think that's what I want?" Cas shakes his head as much as Dean's grip allows but still doesn't say anything, and a realization creeps over Dean that makes him release Cas and get off the bed, walking over to the other side of the room, staring at the wall with his hands on his hips.

"It freaks you out, doesn't it? The idea of being around an Omega in heat. Even if it's me," he says, sadly.

"Dean, I..."

"Never mind. I'll send you a text when it starts if that's what you want, and then I'll send you the all clear when it's over." He goes into the bathroom and shuts the door firmly behind him, leaning on the sink as he struggles not to cry. It was foolish, but he really thought this would be the time to make it official -- that Cas would accept that Dean doesn't want anyone but him, and never will. He's been entertaining this fantasy all day of going through his heat with an Alpha for the first time ever, but not just any Alpha: his true mate, the man he loves, who loves him enough to claim him good and proper.

_It's too soon. I want you to be sure._

What if the reverse is true, and it’s Cas who’s not sure of Dean?

He looks into the mirror, trying to collect himself. “You can't be angry if Cas isn't ready,” he tells his reflection. He can't blame him, not really, but he doesn’t know how to not be hurt by it.

By the time he's calmed down and gone back into the bedroom, Cas is no longer there. Dean wanders into the living room but Sam's sitting on the couch alone, watching the Discovery Channel.

"What happened?" he asks. "Cas just grabbed his things and left, looking upset, but I can't imagine you were fighting." Dean sits down heavily on the couch next to him, running a hand over his face before he rests his head on the back of the couch and stares up at the ceiling.

"I told him about cycling off of my suppressant patch and how I would go into heat next week. He, uh, doesn't want to participate, apparently."

"Shit."

"Yeah. I'd hoped, well...it's probably stupid. I know he has a bad association with Omegas in heat, but I thought it would be different because it's me, you know? That I could help him replace all his negative feelings about it with good ones. That wasn't fair to him, and now he's upset and likely feeling guilty and I don't know what to do, Sam."

"I'm sorry, Dean. It's a bad situation for both of you. Maybe just give him some space."

"Yeah, I guess. It's just...being with him, I forget about every other Alpha that ever hurt me, you know? I guess I hoped it was the same for him, with his experience.” Dean shakes his head as he gets up from the couch. "I know it's early, but I'm just going to go to bed. Are you heading to Sarah's later?"

"No, I'm going over there tomorrow for the weekend with the gang, so we can cram for finals next week." Dean nods distractedly as he heads into the bedroom, pausing before he shuts the door.

“Don’t say anything to Cas?” he entreats, and at Sam’s nod he closes the door before he  strips down to change into his sleep clothe. He turns to look at his suppressant patch in the mirror and sighs, pulling it off and throwing it in the trash. He considers replacing it with a new one, thinking that maybe if three weeks isn't enough for Cas to adjust then another three months might be.

But what if it isn't, and he decides to give it _another_ three months, and then another, and then another? He should just continue as normal, and let Cas get there on his own, whenever that may be. He wonders if Cas will ever be able to stomach tending to him through his heat; the thought of having a true mate who always avoids him at the time he needs him the most is too much to bear.

He changes into sleep clothes and slips under the covers, their cool emptiness doing nothing to temper his sadness. He loves Cas, and in the end that's enough for him to do whatever Cas wants to do. Or not do, as the case may be.

He lies in the dark, facing his phone where it’s charging, willing it to go off, for Cas to reach out to him, and while waiting he falls into a fitful sleep.

On the nightstand, the phone stays silent.

∞

Cas leaves Dean's bedroom in a hurry, barely calling out a goodbye to Sam as he gathers his things and practically runs out the door, gets into his car, and heads back to Gabe's place with his mind in turmoil. The request Dean made has sent him into a panic, and he's not sure what to do as he trudges into the house and heads into the kitchen where he opens the freezer and sticks his face into it for minute, trying to cool his blood.

He finally closes the door and jumps at the sight of Gabriel, leaning against the counter next to the fridge with his arms crossed. He hadn't even noticed him.

"Care to explain?" he says with a raised eyebrow.

He stares for a full minute, breathing heavily with his hand on his chest, trying to calm himself down before he finally speaks.

"I think this is a cocoa conversation," he manages, and Gabriel just nods and gently shoves Castiel out of the way as he pulls milk out of the fridge, pouring it into a saucepan and getting started as Cas sits heavily at the island, face in his hands until Gabe slides a steaming mug of cocoa between his elbows. He looks down at the six precise mini marshmallows and their sprinkling of cinnamon, breathing in the steaming comfort before cradling the mug between his palms.

Gabriel sits across from him, sipping from his own and waiting patiently.

"Dean is cycling off his suppressant patch and he wants me to be there for his heat."

"Ah," Gabe says, nodding. "Let me guess: you're freaked out because of your last experience with an Omega in heat."

"No!" he practically shouts, "that's not it! Or that's not exactly it? I mean, it's part of that but..."

"Cassie, calm down. You're not making any sense. Let's start simple. Do you _want_ to be with Dean through his heat?"

" _Yes._ "

"Okay. So are you worried that it will trigger some kind of flashback to the Daphne situation?"

"No, no I don't think so."

"Good, that's good. But you're afraid of something?"

"Um. Yes?"

"Alright,” Gabe puts his mug down, leaning into his elbows and resting his chin on his hands. “Now, try to explain to me, as succinctly as possible, what you're scared of."

Castiel sips at his cocoa, mulling it over in his head before he finally answers.

"Me. I'm afraid I'll lose control. That I'll do something...something that _scares_ Dean _._ "

"You mean you're afraid you'll act like every other Alpha knot-head that ever treated him badly, and that will sour things between you."

"Yes," Castiel whispers, so relieved that his brother has managed to see to the root of the problem so quickly that his eyes leak tears. He wipes them away, taking a deep breath. "What if I ruin everything, Gabe?"

"Oh, Cassie," Gabe says sadly, "I wish you could trust yourself as much as the rest of us do. Dean wouldn't have asked you for this if he didn't believe you'd take good care of him. He's probably hoping you'll finally claim him. He's wanted you to do it ever since Thanksgiving."

"I know, I just...I wanted him to be _sure_."

"I don't think he's ever been _un_ sure. I think _you_ have. Not unsure of Dean, but of yourself." He gets up, putting his mug in the sink, then coming around to clap Castiel on the shoulder. "Little brother, the rest of us are always telling you that you're nothing like other Alphas, but it will never be completely true for you unless you trust us to know what we're talking about. Don't you think, with everything he's experienced in his past, that Dean of all people would know best who's worth trusting when he's at his most vulnerable?"

Cas nods, knowing he's right, though he can't seem to process it in his heart.

"All those years our parents told you were a bad Alpha until you actually believed it. But what they meant was that you weren't fulfilling _their_ idea of what makes a good Alpha. In that respect they were right, if you want to be technical about it. So consider the type of Alpha _they_ revered, Castiel, and tell me if you're not better off for having turned out the opposite. If that's not what makes you the _best_ type of Alpha, in the end."

Gabriel leaves the room, and Castiel can hear him climbing the stairs to go to bed as he continues to sit there, sipping the last of his cocoa as he ponders what Gabriel has said. He knows exactly the type of Alpha Gabriel is referring to, thinking of the Allens. They wanted him to be the kind that would give into his natural instinct without consideration for anyone else; the kind of Alpha who would rape an underage Omega in her first heat because he couldn't control himself, the kind that would breed her full of pups and keep her subservient to him for the rest of her life. Oh yes, he knows exactly the type of Alpha his parents wanted him to be.

He knows it's definitely not the type of Alpha he _is._

He takes his phone out of his pocket, thinking he should text Dean and apologize, but the thought gives him pause again. He didn't give into his instincts with Daphne, it's true, but Dean is different. Dean is his _true mate_. Dean's scent is like a siren call to him on a normal day, so what will it be like when he's in heat and the scent of him is like a drug permeating his baser instincts? Will he still be in control of himself then?

That's the question that sent him into a panic, sent him running, makes him afraid. This is the thing he has to overcome, and he doesn't know if he can. He won't know if he can control himself in that situation until he's actually _in_ that situation, and by then it will be too late.

He drags himself to bed, vowing that tomorrow he'll call Dean and explain everything he's afraid of, and they'll work it out together.

He barely sleeps, tossing and turning all night, trying to come up with the solution to his problem, but by morning everything looks the same. He knows exactly what Dean will say when he tells him what's wrong: that he trusts Cas, that everything will be fine.

He just can't seem to believe it himself.

He meets everyone for study group, and though Sam looks like he wants to talk to him he says nothing. Everyone is too focused on upcoming finals to notice that anything is wrong, and Castiel goes home for another sleepless night before doing it all over the next day.

The entire time, his phone stays completely silent. He cradles it in his hands before bed, trying to think of what to say, but his mind is as blank as the open text window.

He heads to his first final on Monday determined to just get through the week and finish all his exams, and then he'll devote an entire day to Dean to figure everything out. He just...can't seem to bring himself to reach out to Dean after the way he left him.

∞

Dean doesn't hear from Cas at all on Saturday, even though Sam begrudgingly acknowledges via text that he was with their study group, so he knows he's at least alive. Sunday takes an interminably long time, but Dean still doesn't hear from him. He's upset and confused despite the fact that he's trying extremely hard _not_ to be. He pushed too far and he desperately wants to repair whatever is broken, but he doesn't want to upset Cas further by encroaching on his need for space. So he waits.

The waiting is terrible, because it reminds him too much of those months after their confrontation, when he was racked with guilt and wanted to fix things only to find out Cas was gone and he'd never get the chance. This is actually worse, because now he knows Cas is avoiding him by choice instead of circumstance.

He goes to work at Singer's on Monday, reminding Bobby that he’ll probably need heat leave soon, then spends that entire week in a fog. He performs tasks more out of habit than actual thought, giving himself mundane projects that let him wallow; Bobby just shakes his head as he watches Dean go through all the bins of metal sinkers, sorting them by weight. He's not sure, but he thinks Bobby mentions something to his Dad because he texts more frequently than usual, and Dean responds with answers as vague as he can make them.

He's getting ready for bed Thursday night when he feels the vaguest sensation of his oncoming heat, and sure enough when he wakes up in the morning he finds that he's thrown all the covers onto the floor in the night and his skin feels hot to the touch.

He still hasn't heard from Castiel -- but he's probably been staying away on purpose, avoiding Dean and his oncoming heat so he won’t have to think about it. He did make a single request, but Dean can't bring himself to fulfill it, so he sends a text to Sam instead.

_Dean: Heat starting today if you want to see if Sarah can take you in for the weekend._

_Dean: Cas wanted to know so he could stay away. Could you tell him?_

_Dean: Not like he's had much problem staying away lately._

He looks at that last text before hitting send, then thinks better of it and deletes the whole thing. Sam doesn’t deserve to deal with his bitterness.

His brother is sitting his last final this morning but it's one they share, so he knows Cas will definitely get the message. Dean turns his phone to silent and puts it in his desk drawer, then goes to take a cold shower because he knows this is going to be bad, just like the last one; his body knows his true mate exists even if said mate isn't interested in the proceedings. If he cries about it in the shower, no one needs to know.

∞

Castiel is the third person done sitting for the Arguments final in Moseley's class, but he waits out in the hall for Sam to finish up as well, because he's dying to ask him about question six. He also wants to ask him about Dean because it's been nearly a week since they've spoken, and now that he's done it's the only thing he can think about. He slept poorly all week, torn between not knowing what to say to Dean and then feeling he'd let the silence go on too long to be able to make any kind of adequate apology. He thinks Sam will understand, and help him figure out how to overcome this impasse.

It only takes fifteen minutes before Sam comes out the door, head down as he turns his phone back on. Castiel stands up and grabs his backpack from the floor as he approaches, and just as he reaches him Sam's phone goes off twice in succession. The look Sam gives him is impossible to decipher, like there's something he _wants_ to say that's warring with something he _should_ say.

"What is it, Sam?" he asks, knowing that the time is up on Sam respecting his unspoken desire not to talk about it as they tried to make it through finals week unscathed. "Whatever you're going to say to me, I deserve it. I want to fix it. I just...can't think of how."

Sam looks down and breathes out heavily through his nose, sounding so much like a bull about to charge that Castiel takes a step back.

"Well," he says, looking Castiel in the eye, "I'm afraid you'll have to wait now. Dean's heat just started, so you're not going to be able to work on your apology until that's over, I guess."

Castiel stands in the hallway, dumbfounded. Dean's body has flushed out the suppressant and his heat has started, and he's going through it all alone. Because of Castiel.

_No._

He feels overcome with a sense of protectiveness, the desire to be with his mate so strong that it drowns out everything else, and he doesn't say anything else as he runs down the hallway, weaving between the scattered students until he hits the exit bar to the outside doors, taking off across the lawn as fast as his legs will carry him. He manages to pull out of his space without hitting anything and on his way to Dean as fast as he can go, not driven by lust or any sort of sexual instinct but the knowledge that his mate needs him, is probably hurting without him, and Cas needs to be there to _protect_.

Of all the ways he thought he would react to Dean's heat, this one hadn't occurred to him.

He pulls into the driveway, parking behind the Impala and hitting the button on the garage opener that Dean had given him that Thanksgiving weekend. He’s at the door before it's even fully open and ducks underneath it, quickly jamming on the inside button to close it again before he races up the stairs to Dean's apartment. He flings open the door and comes to a dead stop on the threshold.

He'd thought Dean's heat scent was incredible when there was just a diluted hint of it clinging to Sam's jacket, but the real thing is rich and alive, like a flower rapidly coming into bloom. He carefully closes the door behind him, removing his jacket and his boots before moving carefully through the apartment, picking up on other notes in Dean's scent that he enjoys much less.

Disappointment. Stress. Sadness. All of which he has no doubt are his fault as he gingerly pushes open the door to Dean's room.

Dean is lying on his bed, wearing nothing but a pair of boxer briefs, curled up on his side in the fetal position and shaking. Cas steps into the room and quickly closes the door. He strips down to his own underwear and gets on the bed, gathering Dean into his arms before he's even picked up on his scent.

"Cas?" Dean croaks out, his voice thick. "Why are you here? I thought..."

"Shh, shh, I'm here, of course I'm here. I'm sorry I made you doubt me. I doubted myself, but I'm here now. I always will be, I promise Dean," he says, stroking his hair as Dean nuzzles into the comfort of his Alpha. "Are you uncomfortable? What can I do? Should I get you some cool water? Just tell me what you need and I'll give it to you."

"You, Cas," he whispers. "I just need you. Please."

“You already have me, Dean.”

“Do I? Because last I checked, you hadn’t made me yours yet.”

“Do you...do you still want me to? I’ve been awful, I know I hurt your feelings, I’ll probably do a lot of other stupid things and I want you to be _sure_ ,” but he’s cut off by lips on his, kissing him fiercely.

“Cas, there’s one thing you can do that will show me how sorry you are and make everything up to me all at once.”

“Hmm?” Cas responds, his mind reeling as his brain tries to come back online, drunk on Dean’s kisses and the all-encompassing scent of him.

“You can claim me, Alpha.” He says it with such firm surety, such trust, that Cas’s lingering doubts are quelled and he breaks into a smile.

"Of course, Dean," he says, planting a kiss along his hairline as he strokes his fingers down his back, teasing along the hem of his boxers before gently rolling Dean onto his back and removing them completely, Dean's rock hard member curving up against his stomach, red and weeping. Cas has come to know it well these last few weeks but that hasn't diminished his enthusiasm for it, and he wastes no time pressing his tongue against it, laving at the head before taking it into his mouth to suck gently. Dean moans at the sensation, fisting his hands in the sheets, and Cas places his hands on Dean's hipbones as he presses him into the mattress and sucks his cock in earnest, taking it as deep as he can as he hums.

Dean is already in a highly sensitive state so it doesn't take long before his salty release is hitting the back of his lover's throat as he collapses bonelessly against the sheets. Cas nuzzles against his member, revelling in the muskier scent of him there, his cock still mostly hard despite his orgasm. He slides off his own boxers before he moves sinuously up Dean's body, planting wet kisses at several spots along his route: the inside of a thigh, the start of the happy trail just below his navel, a sorely neglected nipple that's just begging for attention. It's as he's tongueing the crevice at the base of Dean's throat that he finds firm hands in his hair, pulling him up into a searing kiss.

"That was very, _very_ nice, Cas," he hears being whispered in his ear as they break from the kiss, "but what I really need here is your _knot_."

“Well, I did promise to give you whatever you need,” Cas chuckles. “So it would be rude to refuse.” He extricates himself from Dean's grip, gently moving him to lie on his stomach. Dean makes a contented sigh against the pillow in his grasp even as his hips squirm against the sheets, and Cas runs a hand down his spine, fingertips dipping into the divots above his ass before running down the cleft to his dripping hole. Dean moans lowly into the pillow as Cas circles the furled ring of muscle with his thumb before pressing against it, dipping the tip of his finger inside. Dean moves against it, seeking more, but Cas decides a change of plan is in order as he spreads Dean's cheeks apart to press his tongue against his entrance as Dean cries out in surprise.

"God, you taste incredible," Cas says huskily, lapping up the leaking slick. "Wanted to do this for _weeks_ now, Dean." He tries to penetrate him with the tip of this tongue, and judging by the sounds he makes Dean seems very enthusiastic about this idea. Cas works a finger inside along his squirming tongue, and it's not long before Dean is rolling his hips into the mattress, seeking friction for his aching dick even as his hole begs for more. Cas removes his tongue and Dean whimpers at the loss, but he takes a second finger with no trouble at all. Cas rewards him by seeking out that sweet spot inside, finally brushing against it as Dean screams his name.

"Cas, please!" he cries out not much later, when Cas is three fingers in and diligently focused on trying to make Dean come again on just those, "I need you!" Cas hasn't been focused on himself at all this whole time, so he's almost surprised at the hardness of his own cock as he hovers over Dean's back and lines up against his entrance, moving into him slow but firm. Dean lets out a long, low groan of relief as Cas buries himself to the hilt. His knot has already started to form just from the act of pleasuring his mate, and he pulls just a few inches out before plunging back in again several times, letting Dean feel it.

"Oh, you feel so good," he whimpers as Cas gently moves them both so that they're on their knees with Dean leaning forward slightly to grasp the headboard. Cas starts fucking him in earnest, slowly at first while he runs his hands over every inch of Dean's skin that he can reach, massaging his nipples with his palms, running them down his ribs and grasping at his hips as he whimpers. He doesn't touch his cock, not yet, doesn't want him to come again unless it's on his knot, which is just about to pop, pulling at the rim over and over.

Several things happen at once, and later Cas will wonder at how he managed to coordinate so many things simultaneously in the middle of his mindless bliss, chalking it up to deep-rooted instinct. He runs one hand up Dean's chest, pulling against him so that he leans back on Castiel, just as his knot pops and he sinks his teeth into the base of Dean’s neck, fisting his cock with his other hand as Dean comes with a loud shout, seed spilling over Castiel's hand. The heartbeat is rapid and strong under his tongue as he makes his claim, and Dean makes a sound of contentment as he arches back against him.

Cas wraps his arms around him as he removes his teeth, licking at the wound he's made before he manages to maneuver them until they're lying on their sides, his left arm under Dean's torso as he nuzzles the back of his hair, his right hand caressing his rim as it stretches around Castiel's knot. They lie silent for a few minutes, catching their breath, and Cas is starting to doze off when Dean finally speaks.

"Thought you wouldn't come back, that you decided you couldn't do this," he whispers.

"Oh, Dean," he sighs, nosing behind his ear. "I'm so sorry I made you think that. I wanted this as soon as you asked me, I really did. But I was so scared that being around you right now would be too much -- that I'd lose control, that I'd show a side of myself that you hated." He wraps his arms around him, holding tight, feels Dean clench down hard on his knot and gasps as he comes again. He pants through it, caressing Dean's stomach as he licks at the mating bite.

"You could have said something."

"I know. I panicked at first, not sure why. Gabe helped me figure it out. Then I wanted to tell you about it but I knew what you'd say, and I couldn't think of how to make you understand. By then days had gone by and I was so ashamed of my behavior I couldn't figure out what to do. I thought that after finals I'd ask Sam for help, find out how to apologize, but he told me your heat started and my apologies would have to wait. I guess you'd told him I didn't want to be here?"

"Yeah." He twines their fingers together over his stomach. "What changed?"

“When he told me, I was just...overcome with the need to get to you, to protect you. Make sure you were safe." He can hear the wonder in his own voice as says this, realizing that all his fears were for nought. In the end, his Alpha instincts _did_ take over, just not the ones he was afraid of.

His knot has gone down enough so that he can pull out gently, rolling Dean onto his back and kissing him before getting out of the bed. He pads into the kitchen to grab a couple bottles of water out of the fridge without a single thought about whether or not Sam is home, placing them on the nightstand back in the bedroom before moving into the bathroom, grabbing a washcloth and running it under warm water. He cleans himself up, then rinses it under the stream again and takes it with him back into the bedroom, where Dean seems to be dozing.

He cleans him up as gently as he can, maneuvering him onto his side, then wrestles the sheet into out of its tangled state and covers him with it. Tossing the washcloth back into the bathroom, he gets back into the bed and encourages Dean to sit up and drink some water.

"How do you feel?" he asks after the first bottle is empty and Dean gets comfortable against him, the long lines of their bodies pressed together under the sheets.

"I think I'll be okay for a couple of hours, since you're here. It was bad, before. Like last time, because my body wanted my mate and he wasn't here."

"I'm so sorry, Dean."

"Hey," he says, looking up at Cas, "you're here _now_. That's all that matters." Cas leans down to place a kiss on his forehead.

"Get some sleep. I'll be right here when you wake up."

Dean's answering smile is blinding.

∞

It’s late Sunday morning when Dean’s heat ends and he wrestles his exhausted mate into the shower with him, then strips the bed and throws everything into washer before pulling Cas down onto the sofa. He’s glad to be out of the bedroom, even if they’re both too tired to go any further, and it’s no surprise to him that Cas falls back to sleep pretty quickly after arranging himself between Dean’s legs, resting his weight atop him as he listens to the sound of his heart. Dean is dozing himself as he listens to the rhythmic sound of the washing machine, idly flipping through the channels and wondering who he should text first once he remembers where his phone is.

He hears the key turn in the lock to the outside door, and Sam tiptoes into the apartment as gingerly as he can. He raises a hand in greeting as he hangs up his jacket and toes off his shoes, coming over to sit in the armchair near Dean’s head.

“Hey,” he whispers, wary of waking Cas, who’s lightly snoring now, and gesturing to Dean’s neck.  “I see you guys worked things out.”

“Yeah,” Dean returns lowly, running a hand through his mate’s hair. “He’s got one, too, now. We’re okay, Sam.”

“Good. It was getting hard to figure out if I should beat up my best friend for hurting my brother, or the reverse.”

“There’s always both?” Dean says, and Sam snickers lightly before getting up to go into the kitchen and forage for food.

Dean has to extricate himself from Cas so he can go put the sheets in the dryer, who makes a discontented sound as his pillow leaves. He heads into the bedroom, rummaging through his drawers until he finds his phone, completely dead. Of course. He plugs it in, waiting for it to come back on so he can check his messages going back to Friday.

_Moose: uh, Cas just took off like a bat out of hell. I’m not sure if that’s good or bad._

_Moose: Text me if you need anything, OK? I’ll be at Sarah’s until Sunday unless I hear from you._

_Queen C: Where’ve you been? Is something up?_

_Dad: Hey son, do you have my flight info for Christmas already? Call me when you can._

_Queen C: You better text me as soon as you can if you’re actually doing what Gabe and I think you’re doing._

He reads that last one with a start, opening up a new message right away.

_Dean: You’re talking to GABRIEL?_

_Queen C: So is it done?_

_Dean: What’s going on?_

_Queen C: Do you have teeth marks on your neck or not??_

_Dean: …_

_Dean: We both do._

_Queen C: YES! And shit, I’m gonna owe Gabe twenty bucks. I’m sending a message to the group chat right now to let everyone know._

_Dean: Group CHAT? What group? Charlie WTF?_

_Queen C: What? Just all of us from Thanksgiving, we’ve been discussing the mating situation ever since you guys hooked up._

_Dean: You. Are on. A group chat. With Gabe? Who else?_

_Queen C: Your dad. And Bobby and Sam, of course. Oh, looks like Sam knows already. You’re dad is thrilled, he’s been working on something special for Xmas for you guys._

_Dean: I can’t handle this, I thought you guys were joking at Thanksgiving._

_Queen C: I never joke about money, Winchester. Shit, looks like Bobby owes Gabe twenty bucks, too. That fucker’s gonna be rich._

_Dean: I cannot believe you are all betting on my love life._

_Queen C: But you love us._

∞

Cas tries to go back to sleep after Dean gets up but it’s not that comfortable without him, and he turns towards the kitchen as he hears cabinet doors opening.

“Hey, uh, Sam,” he says timidly, remembering the last exchange they had in the hallway after their last final, drawing his knees to his chest as he leans against the arm of the sofa. “I think I should apologize…”

“Save it, Cas,” Sam says as he comes to sit in the armchair with a sandwich and a bottle of water. “The only apology that mattered was to Dean, and it looks like you’ve done that.” His phone pings with a text alert, and he responds quickly before setting it aside and digging into his sandwich.

“I never meant to hurt him, Sam. I won’t ever do so intentionally.”

“You didn’t do it intentionally this time, I’d wager, and you were both hurting.” Sam levels a look at him not of anger, but understanding. “I’d also bet that whatever you were scared of, you’re not anymore.”

Cas puts a hand to his neck, over his own fresh mating mark, the memory of it bringing a smile to his face, and Sam smiles back at him in return.

“You know,” he says, “most Alphas wouldn’t allow their Omegas to give them a matching bite.”

“Well,” Cas says, tilting his head as he thinks about it, “I guess I’m not like most Alphas, am I?” And for the first time, he finds himself at peace with this realization, the knowledge that he doesn’t fit the mold of the perfect Alpha that his parents wanted him to be. He’ll never be domineering and in control, never subjugate his partner or his children to further his own ends. Instead he’ll be a different sort of Alpha: with a mate he loves as an equal, a bunch of misfit friends who care for each other, a comical brother with a big heart, and a best friend who’s like another brother to him. Sam smiles at him from where he’s sitting.

“No, you’re certainly not.”

“Sammy!” Dean calls as he comes out of the bedroom. “What exactly was this bet that all of you made?”

“Not _all_ of us. Dad wouldn’t take the bet.”

“I cannot believe our recovering alcoholic father has more integrity than all of you.”

“Oh, it was mostly because he wasn’t in a position to observe and he said that gave us an unfair advantage.”

“ _What_?”

Castiel watches the brothers argue as he laughs, basking not only in the love he feels for Dean, but for Sam and Gabe and all his newfound family near and far. He’s happy to finally know the meaning of it.


End file.
